


On The Road To Nowhere

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Rockstar AU, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, diner au, road trip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-04 12:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 64,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: When a strange man with a guitar stumbles into her diner one night, Clara Oswald has no idea that her life is about to take a wild turn. John Smith is running from something, but so is she and together they embark on a journey that they swear will lead them nowhere. No getting attached, no talking about the past, just two lost souls living for the moment. But the past has a way of catching up. . . Rockstar!AU, Diner!AU, Road Trip!AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do you know the feelings when you had a really good writing schedule planned and an idea hits you out of nowhere? Well, that's me right now. . . I wanted to write another Original Companion fic, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about this particular AU. I guess it just wants out. Hope you'll enjoy it :)

Clara checked her watch once more and realized that there were ten minutes left until she could finally close up for the day and she exhaled sharply at the prospect of being on her feet for even another minute. For a brief moment she even considered locking the door a little early. No one had come in in the past half hour and since it was a weekday and almost midnight she doubted that that would change. She was tired and her heels were sore. Clara wasn't yet used to working standing up even though it had been months. Back then she had been willing to take anything, any job, as long as it wasn't teaching.  
However, when she heard a rattle at the door, Clara realized she had been wrong about her earlier assumption. Her face turned into a frown as she saw the man struggle with the door handle through the glass door of the diner and she had her doubts he would succeed in pushing it open when the sign clearly said “pull”, but after a while he seemed to notice and finally stumbled inside.  
The man who entered the diner seemed clearly disoriented or drunk and he staggered forward, a heavy looking guitar and a single bag slung across his back, until his feet suddenly stopped. Clara guessed that he was in his 50s, as the grey, curly amount of hair on his head showed, and she had half a mind to throw him out immediately. She wasn't in the right mood to deal with a drunk person, but then the man looked up and his face instantly changed her mind. He seemed to have been crying and he had several cuts and bruises all over his face. Only now did Clara notice that his clothes were dusty.  
“Can I help you?” she asked, but the man didn't reply. Instead he stared at her for a very long time through his sad eyes, not moving except for a light swaying that she blamed on his inebriated state. After a while Clara started to assume she wouldn't get an answer out of him at all.  
“A hotel,” he slurred eventually.  
“There's one right across the street,” Clara told him. The man, however, didn't seem to pay any attention to her answer as he sank down on the nearest seat.  
Clara sighed and reached for the lukewarm coffee to pour him the last cup. He certainly seemed like he needed it.

Before she made her way towards the man, Clara considered her options. She could tell him to leave and send him to the motel across the street or she could act like a decent human being, despite being exhausted, and ask about that sad look on his face.  
“I think we still have some leftover chips,” she remarked, granting him a smile, “Would you like some?”  
The man raised his head, but Clara was only met with a blank stare, so she decided to just go ahead and fill a plate. They would throw them out anyway, so it really didn't matter whether he ate them or not. A minute later she shoved the coffee and chips in his direction and slid into the seat across from him. The man instantly reached for the coffee, but wrinkled his nose as soon as he had taken a sip.  
“Vile,” he murmured and set the mug back down to reach for a chip. Clara was relieved to see him eating. Maybe the food would help him sober up a little.  
“Who gave you that?” she asked, pointing at his left eye that seemed to turn a darker shade of blue with every passing minute.  
The man looked up and put the half eaten chip back down as if he couldn't focus on both eating and talking at once. He opened his mouth and yet it took him a moment before the words finally came out. “Uh, a friend,” he drawled, “Got drunk. Got into a fight.”  
“A friend did that?” she asked in disbelief. The cuts on his face seemed too painful to have been inflicted by a friend.  
Suddenly the man slumped down and buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily. “I fucked up,” he mumbled.  
Clara couldn't help it. She had always considered herself to be kind and compassionate and she somehow knew that the man in front of her could do with a little kindness. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Slowly but surely he lowered his hands and looked at her, even though his eyes were having a hard time focusing on her.  
“Hey, you look like you've had a rough night. Would you like me to help you find the hotel?” she asked quietly.  
The man turned around and stared out of the window. The hotel sign could be seen from here. Then, to her surprise, he shook his head and lowered his gaze again.  
“Too far,” he mumbled, “Legs are jelly.”  
With a sigh Clara rose to her feet. There was only one thing left to do. She walked around the table and reached under the man's arm to pull him up, but she had greatly misjudged how heavy he actually was.  
“What are you doing?” the man slurred and looked at her. The confusion was written all over his face.  
“You can sleep in the back of the diner,” she told him, tugging at his torso, “But I kinda need you to help me out here. I can't carry you.”  
Finally, for the first time since he had entered the diner, the man smiled at her and the expression somehow made him look boyish and a lot younger than he actually was. It was a sweet smile. Then he pushed himself up and both of them almost toppled over under his weight and that of the guitar. Clara caught her balance at the last moment.  
“Sorry,” he apologized, “Not at my best tonight.”  
“It's fine, now come on,” Clara replied softly and together they started making their way towards the back of the diner where the owner kept a sofa in a small room in case he ever needed to spend the night here. It wasn't as comfortable as a real bed, but Clara didn't think the man would mind in the state he was currently in.  
“What's your name?” she asked him when they had reached the door.  
They paused so she could open it, but the man hesitated as well.  
“Uhm,” he stammered, “John Smith.”  
“Alright, John Smith,” Clara reached under his arm again and he leaned on her with his entire weight, “Time to get you to bed.”

Once they were inside the small office, John immediately sank down on the sofa and Clara helped him untangle himself from the guitar that she propped up a safe distance away from him. It looked expensive and she didn't want him to knock it over accidentally. She left his bag right next to the sofa. When she turned back around to John, he was already lying down, his eyes closed. Once more she spotted the cuts on his face and with a sigh decided that she didn't want to leave them that way. The one just above his eyebrow looked like it was still bleeding a little.  
“I'm gonna take a look at those cuts on your face,” she told him, earning only a mumbling sound in reply, while she spun around and retrieved the first aid kid from the shelf.  
Clara knelt down next to the sofa and drew the cap off the antiseptic spray.  
“John?” she asked him, but he didn't respond until she nudged him softly.  
His eyes instantly flew open. “Yeah?”  
She granted him a smile. “I'll clean the cuts on your face,” Clara told him gently, “It's gonna sting for a moment.”  
“Okay,” John mumbled, but as soon as she sprayed the antiseptic on him, he winced and drew in a sharp breath. “Ow!”  
Clara ignored him and wiped his brow with a clean piece of cloth before she taped a plaster over it. Then she sprayed more of the antiseptic on the cloth to dab his lip with it. It was already beginning to swell up.  
“Ow,” he growled.  
“All done,” she said and rose to her feet again, “Your friend landed some mean punches there.”  
Clara was about to turn around and leave when suddenly she felt John's hand around her wrist, holding her back. He could hardly keep his eyes open, but he still tried his best to look at her.  
“Thank you,” he murmured and closed his eyes again.

Clara switched off the lights and went back into the diner to close up for the day before she walked upstairs to where she was currently staying. It was a small flat, maybe even more of a broom closet than an actual apartment, but it would do for now. A look at the calendar told her that it had been exactly two months since she had arrived in this town on the south coast of England and maybe it was time for her to move on. Staying hadn't been her intention at all. Clara wanted to travel, which was the reason why she had quit her job as a teacher in the first place. To travel before it was too late.  
With a heavy sigh she kicked off her shoes and clothes and sank down on her mattress. Maybe tomorrow she would pack her things and leave. Or the day after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the first comments!!! I'm glad I've got your attention once more. Shall we see what happens next, or what happened before John walked into her diner?

“They deserve to be happy!”  
He scoffed and shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't want them to be happy, it really wasn't, but he had already lost too much, too many people. He just couldn't pretend to be fine with it, couldn't pretend to laugh or smile with them. Instead he had grabbed a bottle of whiskey and retreated to the coast to drown his sorrows. Until Jack had found him.  
“Doctor!”  
“What about _my_ happiness, huh?!” the Doctor spat back at him and he realized his words came out terribly slurred. He glanced at the bottle in his hands and then down the cliff he was sitting on. Nothing but sand and water beneath his feet. He threw the bottle as far as he could.  
“Please, Doctor, come back to the party. Everyone's asking about you,” Jack almost pleaded with him. He sounded worried. Well, it was too fucking late for worry now. They should have started a long time ago before everything had gone wrong. His friends were the only thing that still kept him going. He couldn't bear to lose them.  
The Doctor scrambled back into a standing position, swaying on his feet before Jack grabbed him by the arms. His friend laughed at him.  
“On second thought, you should probably go to bed,” he said with a smile, “You can congratulate them tomorrow.”  
“Don't tell me what to do,” the Doctor barked in return, struggling free of Jack's grip, “And don't touch me!”  
“No, because someone needs to tell you to stop acting like a prick!” Jack replied angrily, “For years you've tried to stand between them, intentionally or not. It has got to stop!”  
“Why?” he glared at Jack, taking a step back. His head was so fuzzy that he could barely focus. “Why is it so hard to understand that I need them?!”  
“You don't need them! You're just a selfish bastard and you need to let them go before they hate you for it!”  
Before the Doctor could think better of it he darted forward and threw himself at Jack with all his weight. He lunged and landed his fist right into Jack's face. However he wasn't strong enough and his friend soon shoved him away and the Doctor fell backwards while Jack towered over him.  
“Have you lost your mind?!”  
The Doctor made another attempt to attack, but this time Jack was quicker and a blow hit him right in the eye. He groaned with pain, but he wasn't willing to give up just yet. The Doctor scrambled back to his feet and was ready to throw himself at Jack once more.  
“Doctor! No!” he heard him scream and then everything happened to fast for him to understand. The next thing he felt was that he was falling as his body tumbled down the cliff.

* * *

When he woke up there was nothing but pain. In fact, he was fairly certain that there wasn't a bone in his body that wasn't aching and yet he still considered himself lucky after the fall. It could have easily ended in broken bones. But that wasn't it, was it? There was a stale taste on his tongue and the pounding, throbbing ache behind his temples. The hangover. Of course. He was used to heavy drinking, but last night he had gone a little overboard. Last night. . . last night.  
He opened his eyes and for a moment he had no idea where he was. Where? How? He couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried. The only thing he could vaguely recall was a round, pretty face smiling down at him. It might have been a dream.  
He lifted himself up into a sitting position and looked around the room. His guitar was there and so was his bag, the only two things he needed now. And the woman hadn't been a dream. She had served him dreadful coffee and chips and he had told her his name was John Smith. Well, it was what it said on the ID in his bag. As good a name as any. From now on he would be John Smith.

A knock on the door tore him out of his thoughts and he raised his head to watch the pretty waitress from last night enter the room. She granted him a soft smile.  
“How is the hangover?”  
John snorted. “Great. I never want it to leave. Love the feeling of my skull exploding around my brain.”  
The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Sarcasm. That's good,” she replied, “Although I would have expected a thank you rather than a snarky comment.”  
“Sorry,” John mumbled and lowered his gaze.  
“There's a bathroom through there,” she told him and nodded towards the small door next to the sofa, “I'll make coffee in the meantime.”  
The door closed behind her and John decided to follow her advice. Slowly and limping a little, he made his way into the bathroom. It was small, but it held a sink and shower and John decided that he could do with a really hot shower and change of clothes. He stripped out of his dirty suit and noticed that his body was covered in cuts and bruises from the fall, but he also found a surprise when he glanced into the mirror. The wounds on his face had already been taken care of and there was a plaster right above his eyebrow. The waitress must have put it there. She had been nice to him, kind and John wasn't sure he actually deserved it. He was a prick and a bastard, just like Jack had said, even more so because of what he was going to do than what he had done in the past. But he couldn't see another way out of this. He had tried fighting, now there was only flight.

* * *

Clara wasn't entirely sure that the man she had taken in last night and the one that walked out of the back office were actually the same person. The shower seemed to have done wonders for John Smith. He had also changed his clothes from the dirty suit he had worn last night to something very simple and elegant: a crisp white shirt, black pleated trousers and a dark coat that stood in stark contrast to his silver hair, paired with clean Doc Martens boots and a pair of classic Wayfarers. He looked almost handsome like that and the only thing that made Clara certain he was still the same man was the slight limp that had probably been caused by the fight.  
“Too cool to take your sunglasses off indoors?” she remarked as she poured him a cup of coffee.  
John sat down on one of the stools at the counter and instantly reached for the mug. “Mhhh, this is good,” he said, “Good coffee.”  
Clara smiled to herself and she couldn't even explain why. Maybe it was because the man had seemed so beaten last night and now, thanks to her, he looked a lot better.  
“Thank you for letting me sleep here,” John said after a moment, “I, er, I don't normally get that drunk. Drunk, yes, but not that drunk. I must have been a pain in the arse.”  
Clara shrugged in response. “I've seen worse,” she replied, “You seemed sad mostly, which is the only reason I did it. I don't take in stray dogs otherwise.”  
John raised his eyebrows behind his sunglasses. “I'm a stray dog now?”  
“You looked like one with the puppy dog eyes you gave me.”  
He let his head sink and Clara heard him take a deep breath. She reached for the plates on the counter and shoved one of them in front of him.  
“There, you should eat something. The ham & eggs here are good,” Clara told him and grabbed a fork to get started on her own portion.  
“Thanks,” he mumbled and reluctantly started to eat, “You work crazy shifts here by the way. Night shift yesterday, morning shift today.”  
“I switched with a colleague. Didn't really want to explain to her why there's a stranger in the back office, sleeping off his drinking spree.”  
“Ah,” John uttered and a light smile appeared on his face, but he didn't say anything else. Clara grew increasingly curious about the man who had stumbled into her diner out of nowhere. Who was he and what had happened to bring him here? That look she had seen on his face last night, it just wouldn't leave her alone. John had seemed so broken and so lonely and she knew that particular feeling well.

“What will you do now?” Clara asked him, “Will you go back to your friend and apologize?”  
Slowly John shook his head. “No, I'll never go back. I'll leave. In fact, I'll leave today.”  
“Leave?” she enquired.  
John raised his head and somehow Clara knew that he was looking right at her despite the sunglasses. “The country. Go somewhere else. Far away from here,” he explained.  
“And where?”  
It was the sort of thing Clara had had in mind when she had left London. Leave the country. Vanish. She hadn't cared much about where the journey would go as long as she could leave. Well, she had only managed to come as far as Dorset.  
“I don't know,” John shrugged, granting her a soft smile, “Norway sounds good to my ears. Lovely landscape, not many people. In fact, it sounds ideal. I should get a motorhome. Do you know how the ferries run from the UK to Scandinavia?”  
Clara laughed in response. The man was utterly crazy or desperate or still drunk. She wasn't entirely sure.  
“You can't just rent a motorhome and take the first ferry,” she laughed. It was crazy.  
However, John frowned at her. “Why not?”  
“Because!”  
“Because what?” he asked, still wrinkling his forehead.  
Clara exhaled sharply, not knowing how else to explain it to him. Then again, why would she even try to tell him that it was impossible? “Look,” she said instead, “I know that feeling. I know what it feels like to wanna run away. Trust me, I tried. I ran and look where I ended up? It never works out the way you want it to.”  
“Come with me then,” John prompted her, “Have you ever been to Scandinavia?”  
“No, but I can't,” she laughed in response. Technically she could, but that didn't mean she was going to. She wasn't going to run away with a stranger just because he offered her a ride out of town.  
“What is your name?” John asked her in all seriousness.  
Clara sighed. “See, that's one of the reasons I can't come with you. I don't know you. You could be a rapist or a murderer.”  
To her surprise John only shrugged. “I could be. That's definitely a risk.”  
“See, that's not exactly reassuring-” she tried to say, but John interrupted her by gently placing his hand on top of her own.  
“I'm going to leave with or without you. There's nothing that can change my mind and nothing that will stand in my way,” he said earnestly, “But I'm rubbish on my own. I get grumpy and drink too much and I'll probably end up in trouble. I know it doesn't mean much coming from a complete stranger, but you have nothing to fear from me. You were kind to me, you helped me out last night. If you really want to run away, let me help you with that.”  
Clara hesitated for a moment and the touch of his hand was beginning to tingle on her skin while her heart was starting to beat just a little faster. She could do it. She could run away with him, mad as it seemed. Maybe this was it? Maybe this was the chance she had been waiting for ever since she had stranded here? Clara wanted to get away, so why not with him?  
“Clara,” she said eventually and pulled her hand away.  
“I'm sorry?” John asked, wrinkling his forehead.  
“My name is Clara,” she explained, “And I have to wait until my colleague arrives at noon before I can leave.”  
A broad smile appeared on his face when her words had finally sunk in. “Is that a yes?”  
“No, it means you can come back in the afternoon and ask me again,” Clara told him, “Maybe I'll say yes.”  
Still grinning happily John jumped up from his stool. “I will,” he said, “I will come back. Just give me a few hours to find a motorhome and the ferry routes to Scandinavia.”  
Without saying another word he grabbed his bag and slung his guitar back around his shoulder and hurried out of the door, making Clara doubt her decision once again. This was either her best chance of ever leaving this godforsaken town or a very big mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments :) Now, what do you say? Will Clara run away with John or not?

Clara grew more impatient with every second that her shift lasted and when her colleague finally showed up, Clara threw her apron aside and darted off into the city. It wasn't as if she had already made her decision because she really hadn't. She couldn't just run off with a stranger just because he offered, it was impossible. She didn't know the man. Clara didn't for a moment believe that he would actually harm her because he seemed lonely above all and really just in desperate need of company, but that really wasn't the point. She couldn't run away with a man she didn't know.  
Yet that wouldn't stop her from at least thinking about it and if she decided to do it despite her better judgement, she would need a new things that she could only buy in town. 

However, when Clara passed the seaside promenade, she noticed that something odd was going on down on the beach. Police tape was blocking the main path down to the water and when she glanced further down the hill, Clara spotted about a dozen people, some of them in uniform. Something had happened at the beach last night. With her curiosity sparked, Clara approached some of the onlookers.  
“Excuse me,” she said to an elderly lady, “Can you tell me what happened down there?”  
The woman turned around and Clara recognized her as one of the customers who usually only frequented the American style diner on days they offered blueberry muffins.  
“Hello Miss Oswald,” the old lady smiled at her, “Haven't you heard?”  
Clara shook her heard. “No, I've been at work. Why? What happened?”  
The woman bent a little closer to her, dropping her voice until it was almost a whisper. “They say a man died down there last night.”  
Instinctively Clara took a step back, eyeing the old woman closely. “Here? On our beach?”  
The lady nodded.  
Clara turned her head towards the beach again and observed the spectacle a little more closely. The police were obviously investigating something, but she also spotted a couple of civilians down there as well, hugging, crying. One particular person that caught her attention was a woman with long, red hair who had her arms wrapped around a man in a tight embrace. Probably friends of family.  
“I suppose we'll read it in the local news soon,” the old lady said after a moment.  
“Probably,” Clara breathed in reply, even though she might not be here to read it. She had yet to make up her mind. “I better go. I've got some errands to run.”

Clara turned around and headed further into town, clutching the shopping list she had scribbled down during her shift in her hand. She wanted to leave this town. But did she want to leave it with John Smith?

* * *

John shoved his sunglasses further onto the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. He had come so far. He had bought a camper van from the seller in town, one that was big enough for two people just in case Clara decided to come with him. And he really wanted her to. John was no good on his own, he never had been. Right now he probably needed someone with him more desperately than ever before.  
Once again John glanced inside the motorhome and couldn't help but feel happy about his choice. It was roomy, well, at least for a camper van, with two bunk beds, a small shower and toilet, kitchen and sitting area. If he was going to run away, at least he would do it in style. Now there was only one thing left to do and that was to find the best ferry to Scandinavia. Admittedly, it wasn't that far way, but it was desolate and the perfect place to vanish.  
John reached inside his pocket to retrieve his phone, but found that it wasn't there. He must have lost it on the beach last night, but there was no way he could go back there now to get it, not when the place was swarming with police. Besides, it might be smarter to just get a new one altogether. John glanced at his watch and realized that it was already 1 PM. He had a tight schedule to stick to before he could go back to Clara.

* * *

The streets were nearly empty when John drove up to the diner, empty except for one figure leaning against the outside wall of the diner. His heart skipped a little beat when he spotted Clara until he realized that she didn't appear to have a suitcase or bag on her. No, she wouldn't join him. Of course she wouldn't.  
Slowly he climbed out of the vehicle and watched as the young woman approached him, eyeing the motorhome closely.  
“Impressive,” she said, nodding towards it.  
John grinned at her. “It's bigger on the inside,” he replied, “Wanna have a look?”  
Clara shrugged. “Why not?”  
He made his way around the camper van and opened the back door for her to step inside. Reluctantly Clara climbed into the van and glanced around the room. Maybe it wasn't as spacious as a flat or a hotel room, but it would do for him. He just wasn't sure whether Clara would want to live with him in such a crammed space.  
“Bigger than my apartment,” she laughed once she had taken a proper look at it.  
“What? Really?”  
Clara turned around to smile at him. “No, not really. But close.”  
“You didn't bring a suitcase,” he noted.  
She uttered a long sigh and John felt her gaze upon him for a long moment before she spoke. She still hadn't made up her mind, that much was obvious, and he really couldn't blame her for that. John was a stranger. She would be utterly insane to come with him. But maybe she was. . .  
“I don't know you, John,” she said after a while, “I don't know who you are and what you're like. All I know is that last night you stumbled into my diner and needed a place to sleep.”  
“If it makes you feel any better, I don't know anything about you either apart from your name and the fact that you work in a diner.”  
“I shouldn't run away with a stranger just because he offers to give me a ride out of town, no matter how badly I want to leave.”  
John racked his brain for a good solution because he knew where she was coming from, he understood why she was so reluctant, but there was hardly anything he could do to change her mind. He just really didn't want to be on his own.  
“The ferry leaves from Harwich,” he said eventually, “Which is a five hour drive from here.”  
Clara raised her eyebrows at him. “So?”  
“How about you decide when we get there?” John suggested hopefully, “You don't have to leave the country with me. I'll give you a ride out of town and if you decide in Harwich that you don't want to go any further, you can stay there or take a train home or whatever. It's five hours to make up your mind.”  
To his surprise Clara didn't respond. She only stared at him.  
“I know you want to leave and I know you're still not sure whether you want to leave with me or not.”  
“What makes you think that?”  
“Well, you wanted me to come back when you could have told me to piss off this morning,” John countered.  
He watched as Clara bit down on her lip and eventually nodded.  
“Five hours to get to know me and make up your mind,” he told her, “What do you say?”

Clara remained silent for a painfully long moment and John had no idea what she was going to say while her eyes were still scanning the motorhome interior again. Then, finally, she turned back around to look at him.  
“I'll be on top,” she said determinedly.  
“Uhm,” John stammered, for a moment completely lost for words.  
“The bunk beds,” Clara quickly added, “I meant the bunk beds. I get the top one. _If_ I decide in Harwich that I want to come with you.”  
A large smile was beginning to spread over his face until John realized that there was still something missing from he picture. “What about your suitcase?” he asked, “You haven't packed.”  
Clara gave a shrug in reply. “It's in the diner. Didn't want to seem desperate. I'll leave that to you,” she said and patted him on the shoulder as she made her way back outside.  
John watched as she vanished into the diner to retrieve her suitcase and his heart suddenly felt a lot lighter. He would run away at last and he wouldn't have to do it alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :) How can John persuade her to stay? What do you think?

They had been driving for a while and the only sound that was accompanying them was the low rumbling of the engine and the music from the CD John had placed into the player after he had claimed that he hated listening to the radio. Clara still wasn't sure whether she should join him on his trip to Denmark, where the ferry from Harwich would land, or whether she should stay on the west coast of England and try her luck there. But she knew that a chance like this would surely not come again soon.  
She turned her head and watched him for a long moment, watched him either being entirely focused on the road ahead or lost in thought. Clara wasn't quite sure. “Why are you running away?” she asked him before she could stop herself.  
John glanced at her for a moment before his eyes went back on the road. It took him a while to reply, but the answer wasn't quite what Clara had hoped for. “I don't wanna talk about it,” he replied coldly.  
Clara arched her eyebrows up. “Don't you think I have a right to know? I mean, after getting into a car with a stranger?”  
“Why are you running away?” John asked instead of replying to her question and shot her a dark look.  
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. That was a deeply personal question, one she didn't really care to answer right now because even though it had been a while, the truth still stung. “I don't wanna talk about it either.”  
To her surprise John laughed. “One more thing we have in common. Let's just agree to not talk about the past, okay?”  
“See, this is exactly why I'm not sure I should come along. Running away with a stranger is one thing, running away with a stranger who refuses to answer questions about himself is even worse,” she said angrily. Clara was a control freak, always had been. She wanted to know exactly what she was getting into before she was actually getting into it.  
“Look,” John said, followed by a heavy sigh, “I've done things in the past that I'm not proud of. I'm not a model person. I've hurt the people that I love most, I've lost them and I'm running away because I can't stand around and watch it all fall apart. I'm a bastard and a coward and I really don't want to deal with any of it, but that is nothing that you need to worry about. I've told you before. I don't do well on my own and all I really want is some company. Now, given that I want you around, I'd be pretty damn stupid to do something to drive you away, wouldn't I?”  
John turned his head to look at her and for some reason Clara knew that he was telling the truth. Even though their stories might be different, even though they were divided by what looked like a thirty year age gap, even though she didn't know him at all, Clara decided that she had probably more in common with him than she would like to admit. Part of the reason she had run away was cowardice as well.  
“Same,” Clara said simply, “I ran from my old life because I didn't want to stay and watch it change. It was out of my control, so I did the only thing I could do. I left.”  
John smiled at the road ahead. “And you regained your control.”  
“Precisely,” she agreed.  
“Then let's not talk about the past, okay? Let's make a deal to not talk about it,” John suggested and threw her a glance before his eyes wandered back to the road.  
Clara inhaled deeply. If she agreed it would mean that she was placing her trust in a stranger. But what other choice did she have if she didn't want to be quizzed about her past either? Besides, she could still decide not to come to Scandinavia with him.  
“Alright,” she agreed, “Deal.”  
Clara leaned back in her seat and turned her head to look out of the window. Just a few hours left before she had to make up her mind.

* * *

The time past more quickly than Clara would have liked, yet by the time they arrived at the harbour in Harwich the sun was already going down and John parked his motorhome as close to the landing stage as was allowed and turned off the engine.  
“Where would the ferry land?” Clara asked him, turning her head in his direction.  
“A town in Denmark called Esbjerg,” he replied, “It's the only direct route to Scandinavia.”  
“Didn't you say you wanted to go to Norway?” she enquired curiously.  
“And I will,” John said determinedly, “From Denmark we'd have several options. Either drive up to the north of the country and take the direct ferry to Norway or go through Sweden, either by ferry or cross the bridge.”  
Clara nodded. Well, at least he had thought this through at least a little bit. John wasn't entirely clueless and unprepared. That was a start.  
“I think I'm gonna try and find someone who can tell me when the ferries start leaving tomorrow,” John said after a moment, “Sorry, I didn't realize we would get here that late. If you want to you can get a hotel room. You don't have to stay in the van with me.”  
“It's fine,” Clara reassured him immediately, “It's just for a night. Besides, I'll have to get used to your snoring if I decide to stick around.”  
She grinned at him, but John threw her a hurtful look in return. “I don't snore.”  
“We'll see about that,” she giggled.  
“So, uhm,” John hesitated, “Do you wanna come with me? Find someone who knows things?”  
Clara drew in a deep breath. “Actually, I'd like to go for a little walk if you don't mind.”  
She just needed to get away for a moment, clear her head, think it all through.  
“Oh, uhm, okay,” he replied, “That's fine.”  
“I'll see you in a bit,” Clara said, granting him a smile before she opened the car door and climbed out.

Clara wrapped her jacket a little tighter around her body as she walked away from the camper van. Even though it was late May it was quite cool after the sun had started to sink behind the trees and the sea was cooling the air down even further. However, the smell that hung in the air was heavenly, like a wonderful spring night drenched in salt water. If she went with him, Clara should definitely stop somewhere and buy a bikini so she could go for a swim. If she went with him. . .  
She had until morning to decide and Clara was more than just a little torn. To run away with a man she barely knew or to pass up a chance to see the world. It seemed impossible to make a choice. So far John Smith had been nice to her, but what if he turned out to be a jerk as soon as they had set foot on the ferry? Then again, Clara could just take the next ferry back. Or a plane. But why did he refuse to talk about his past? What was so terrible that he couldn't tell her? Clara felt at a loss and her only hope was that she would wake up tomorrow morning with the right answer to the question she had been asking herself all day.  
When the sun had finally vanished from the horizon, plunging the world in dark blue hues, Clara slowly began to make her way back to the camper van. They weren't the only people waiting to board the ferry because Clara could clearly spot several other motorhomes parked around the area and the closer she came to the parking spots, the more clearly Clara could hear the soft tones of a guitar. The melody rang a faint bell in her mind, but it wasn't until she was able to see the motorhome door in the twilight that Clara realized who was making the music.  
John Smith was sitting on the steps of the camper van, the cherry red guitar propped up on his lap, and he was playing a sad melody that was so familiar to her ears, but still she couldn't quite figure out where she had heard it before. Clara stopped a good distance away and watched him for a long moment, afraid that he would stop if he noticed her presence and she didn't want him to stop ever again. It was sad and beautiful, Clara knew no other words for it. John was so lost in his music that Clara realized she wouldn't have to worry about getting noticed. Right now there was nothing in his world apart from himself, his music and the shattering loneliness that was written all over his face and for the first time she understood, really, properly understood why he had asked her to come along. When John said that he didn't want to be alone it was a big, fat understatement. He was lost on his own. Whatever had happened in the past, whether they knew each other or not, he shouldn't be alone or he might soon die of a broken heart.  
Finally Clara stepped closer, now humming along to the song that she had recognized at last, and when his playing ceased John looked up at her.  
“You're back,” he uttered. The moment was gone, but the sadness was still visible in his eyes.  
“You didn't have to stop,” she told him with a smile, “That was beautiful.”  
John only gave her a light shrug. “The ferry leaves at 11,” he said, “One of the other campers told me.”  
“We should probably get up early and do some shopping,” Clara remarked, “You know, the essentials. I could do with a new toothbrush.”  
When a frown spread across John's face, Clara thought that sometimes he was incredibly slow.  
“That's a yes,” she said plainly, “I'm coming with you.”  
John didn't answer immediately, but the smile that appeared on his face as soon as her words had sunk in was all the confirmation Clara needed right now. He was happy and Clara was certain that she had made the right decision.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments :) Yes, John and Clara are getting to know each other. . . but where will that lead?

“You're right. We really should get some basic groceries,” John agreed before he took a large bite off his sandwich. It wasn't as horrid as he had imagined it, but still nothing compared to actual food. “I don't wanna live off petrol station food.”  
He watched while Clara eyed her own sandwich with suspicion. “Ah well, it'll do for tonight, I assume,” she replied and took a careful bite.  
“We'll find something,” John reassured her before he pointed to his right, “And we've got a kitchen. I'm not entirely useless as a cook, so no worries. I'm not gonna let you starve.”  
Clara giggled when she looked at him and he knew that he was failing to hide his excitement about the fact that she had finally agreed to come along. But the prospect of not having to run away alone was a great relief. “It's fine, John. I won't change my mind again over night. I'll come with you, good cook or lousy cook.”  
He beamed at her in reply, not even trying to hide the relief he felt. It wouldn't be so bad if Clara was with him. And John would make sure that she didn't regret her decision.  
“We should probably get a map, too,” she suggested.  
John, who had just taken another bite and now had his mouth full nodded enthusiastically. “Good idea,” he mumbled.  
“I'm actually really curious to see it all. I've only been outside the UK twice. This is gonna be great,” she smiled back at him.  
“Where did you go?” John enquired.  
“France with my parents when I was a kid. I don't actually remember much about it,” she explained, “And to Dublin with a couple of friends while we were at uni. I've always wanted to travel, but something always came up.”  
“Well, nothing is going to come up this time,” he said determinedly, “I'm gonna show you all the beautiful corners of Norway. Trust me, you'll love it.”  
“You seem pretty sure of that,” Clara remarked, raising her eyebrows at him, “I could be the tropical island beach type for all you know.”  
John started to laugh. No, he couldn't imagine that that would be Clara's taste even though he hardly knew her. “I believe if you were the tropical island beach type you wouldn't even have considered coming along.”  
She shrugged. “I could be a crazy, masochist tropical island beach type who loves the sun but punishes herself by going to Alaska instead.”  
The smile didn't fade from John's face when he replied. “Clara, I promise you'll love it. Everyone who has eyes loves it.”  
Clara smiled at him in return. “I'm sure I will,” she paused, looking down at her empty plate, “But before we go I think we should set a few basic rules.”

There it was, the moment their conversation would take a serious turn again and John wasn't quite sure whether he was prepared for that. So he rose from his seat and turned towards the kitchen area, retrieving two glasses from one of the cupboards. He had made sure that their motorhome came fully equipped to avoid nasty surprises.  
“What are you doing?” Clara wanted to know while John opened another cupboard, producing a bottle of whiskey and placing it on the table between them.  
John slid back into his seat and reached for the bottle to unscrew the cap. “Want one?” he asked her.  
“Sure, why not,” Clara said and held the glass out for him to fill.  
He watched as she carefully smelled the contents and took a careful sip. John, on the other hand, downed the glass in one go before pouring himself a second.  
“Alright,” he said, “Rules. Yeah. Good plan. What do you have in mind?”  
Clara wrinkled her nose at the beverage when she set her glass back down and looked at him, shrugging slightly. “Well, there's the obvious ones like when I'm in the bathroom, don't come in.”  
He snorted and took a large sip from his whiskey. Maybe the conversation wouldn't be as serious as he had expected. “Clara, that's not exactly a rule that needs mentioning.”  
“Good,” she determined.  
“Anything else?” John raised his eyebrows at her.  
“Yeah, don't wake me up in the middle of the night unless it's important. I need my beauty sleep and I get grumpy when someone wakes me.”  
“Same,” John replied and finished his glass, “May I also throw in a few rules?”  
Clara nodded.  
“Don't touch my guitar unless I tell you it's okay,” he said, “There aren't many things that I treasure, but that guitar is one of them.”  
“Just looking, no touching. Got it,” Clara confirmed.  
“And no talking about the past.”  
“We've already agreed on that,” she told him.  
“Good, then that's all from my side,” John said and leaned back in his seat, reaching for the bottle again to refill his glass. However, as soon as he had put the bottle back down, Clara reached out and snatched the glass away from him.  
“Hey!”  
“That's enough,” she told him strictly, “I believe we've already established that I can't carry you.”  
John frowned at her for a moment before he snatched the glass back. “Three glasses of whiskey aren't nearly enough to get me drunk.”  
“You've got a problem with alcohol,” Clara determined and when John failed to pay attention for just a second, Clara had already stolen the glass back.  
He laughed in response. “I do not. It's common to drink in my profession.”  
Clara knitted her eyebrows and leaned across the table to watch him more closely and all of a sudden John grew a little nervous under her gaze. “Were you a bar owner?” she asked him.  
“Something like that,” he replied and snatched the glass back, “And you've just broken our rule about the past, so-”  
He broke off and downed the contents of his glass before he set it back down with a thud. “See? Not drunk.”  
“Mh,” Clara uttered, still watching him closely and she must have read his mind because a second later she had grabbed the bottle and it was out of reach for him. “Nope, that's enough. I'm not dealing with your snoring.”  
“I'm not gonna snore,” John argued, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture, but Clara was rising from her seat and she was taking the whiskey with her. It was then that John realized that he didn't stand the slightest chance against her. Clara was tiny, it was his motorhome, but for some reason Clara had been the boss from the moment they had run away together. John shouldn't like that, but he did. Strangely enough, he did.  
“Stop looking at me like that, you'll get it back tomorrow evening,” she told him and John suddenly snapped out of his trance. How long had he been staring at her? Then Clara continued. “I'm gonna brush my teeth and go to sleep. I suppose we've got a long day ahead of us.”  
“Yes,” John replied, “Boss.”  
For a moment he thought he saw Clara blush, but he blamed it on the glass of whiskey she had had and before John could even confirm his observation Clara turned around and vanished into the bathroom.

After Clara had finished it was John's turn to brush his teeth in the crammed space of the bathroom. It really was the only part of the camper van that wasn't bigger on the inside and John hoped that they would find a public shower every once in a while just so he could moved while he cleaned himself up. That or a nice lake. Either would do.  
When John left the bathroom he realized that the lights had already been turned off and the only light that still illuminated the room came from the street lamps outside. Better curtains. That should also go on the shopping list. They would need them once they were in Norway and the nights wouldn't be fully dark anymore.  
John stopped next to their beds and saw that Clara had truly taken the top one for herself and she was already curled up inside of it, the duvet pulled up to her nose. He leaned his head against the nearest wall and a smile spread across his face when he saw her like that. She had been the right choice, he was sure of it and John would do his very best so that she wouldn't regret her decision. For a moment, while he watched her, John even wondered what he had done to deserve her company.  
“Stop staring,” Clara suddenly mumbled, but she didn't open her eyes, “That's creepy.”  
“Sorry,” John uttered a soft, almost insecure laugh, “Just wanted to say thank you.”  
“For what?” she asked and then her eyes flew open and she looked right at him. Sometimes, John thought, her eyes betrayed the sadness she couldn't express otherwise.  
“For coming with me,” he said, “Good night, Clara.”  
John bent down and crawled into the lower bunk bed, making himself as comfortable as he could. It wasn't bad, he had slept on worse surfaces. Just like the small shower it would do.  
“Night,” he heard Clara mumble above him and with a smile on his lips John closed his eyes. This was the beginning of something good, he was certain of that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments :D But why are you expecting heart attacks?

Clara woke up the next morning when the sun was shining right into her face and she groaned in frustration as she turned around in bed, only to realize where she was. All of a sudden she felt wide awake.  
She had agreed to run away with John, a man she hadn't even met two days ago. It was insane and yet her pulse was racing at the thought of it. Finally Clara would do what she had wanted for such a long time. Run away. Leave the country. See the world. It was happening at last.  
Clara soon realized that it was impossible to go back to sleep, not just because she was wide awake, but also because a certain someone was softly snoring underneath her. Besides, they still had some things to do before boarding the ferry, so Clara climbed down the ladder and stopped next to John's bed. A part of her wanted to laugh out loud at the sight of him because even though she judged him to be in his 50s, he certainly didn't look like it now. John was lying on his back, limbs outstretched in all possible directions, displaying the old, faded band t-shirt he was wearing, and his bed hair looked even wilder than it normally did. _And_ he was snoring.  
“Never believe a man who tells you he doesn't snore,” Clara mumbled as she bent down over him, holding his nose so he couldn't breathe.  
The snoring stopped instantly and John's eyes flew open before he jolted up and moved to the edge of the bed.  
“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” he cursed.  
Clara couldn't help but laugh in response.  
“What the hell did you do that for?!” he panted, obviously still startled by the way he had been woken up.  
“You should have seen your face,” Clara giggled, “It was hilarious.”  
John only glowered at her.  
“You were snoring,” she told him, “Besides, we need to get up.”  
“I don't snore,” he grumbled in reply and fell back on his bed. Clara watched while he pulled the duvet over his head and sighed.  
“Fine,” she said, “I'll wake you again when I'm done in the bathroom.”

Clara decided to take a quick shower in the crammed space of the bathroom and for a brief moment she wondered how a tall man like John could even fit in here. Then again, he was lean, so he might just be able to turn around inside the tiny shower.  
After brushing her teeth and putting on fresh clothes, Clara glanced into the mirror and decided that she liked what she saw. She had never been big on camping, mostly because she really valued a certain degree of personal hygiene, but if the camper van came with a shower and decent mirror, Clara thought that she could get used to it.  
When she stepped out of the bathroom, however, her gaze soon turned dark as she realized that John hadn't moved. Quickly, before John could prevent it, Clara darted forward and pulled the duvet away from him.  
“Hey!” he complained loudly.  
“Time to get up,” she told him sternly, “We've got some shopping to do and a ferry to catch.”  
He uttered a grunt and turned his back on her. “We had a rule about waking each other up,” she heard him mumble.  
“Yeah, in the middle of the night. It's morning, so get your arse up!”  
John groaned once more, but this time he actually moved and slowly sat up on bed, glaring at her. “I hate you.”  
Clara smiled at him in response. “No, you don't.”  
“You're bossy,” John growled.  
“And you like that,” she countered with a shrug, “Which is why you invited me along, isn't it? Admit it, you need someone to boss you around.”

Finally John rose from his bed and only now did Clara's gaze wander down his chest to stop at his underpants. She tried, she really tried, but Clara still started to laugh.  
“What is _that_?!”  
“It's called pants and I'm sincerely hoping you're wearing some, too. Might catch a cold otherwise,” he replied dryly.  
“No, I mean, why the question marks?” she sniggered, “Is someone confused?”  
John's gaze darkened right before he rolled his eyes. “Kindly stop staring at my crotch.”  
The moment Clara realized just what she had been staring at she felt the heat rise into her cheeks and she quickly looked up, only to find that she couldn't quite meet his gaze yet. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly.  
Out of the corner of her eye she watched John smile at her, something that only managed to make her blush a little more. “Well, can't say I blame you,” John remarked and turned around, heading towards the bathroom.  
“Oh, you're quite full of yourself, aren't you?” Clara asked, her voice sounding a little angrier than she would have expected.  
To her surprise John merely shrugged before the bathroom door closed behind him.

* * *

Clara eyed the contents of their shopping cart and compared them to the list they had made together over breakfast. It held everything they needed for their journey, including dark curtains and a new bikini and Clara guessed that if they had forgotten something, they could still get it in Denmark or Norway. No, so far they seemed all set for the journey. Except for one thing: she had lost John somewhere in the shop, but Clara had seen enough of him to get a good inkling about where she might find him.  
“No,” she said sternly as she turned around the corner, spotting John in front of the whiskey shelf, “Also you _can_ take your sunglasses off in here, you know?”  
John seemed to ignore her as he picked two bottles from the shelf and started to compare the labels while Clara came to a halt next to him.  
“Are you ignoring me on purpose?” she asked.  
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes still scanning the labels.  
“You still have a problem with alcohol,” Clara remarked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“Nope,” John said and looked up from the bottles in his hands, grinning broadly at her, “I have a problem _without_ alcohol.”  
She glared at him in response. “Not funny.”  
“Clara,” he sighed heavily, “I'm Scottish. I like to end the day with a nice glass of whiskey and this stuff is expensive in Scandinavia, so I'd prefer to buy it here. If it makes you feel better, you have my permission to the take the drink away from me when you think I've had enough.”  
Clara considered it for a moment. He had protested last night, but she was fairly certain she could hold her ground against John any time.  
“One condition,” he raised her index finger as a warning, “You won't drink and drive.”  
John gasped as if in horror. “Clara, what do you take me for?”  
“Do you want an honest answer?”  
“Not really, no,” he replied and placed the bottles into the cart before he started pushing it ahead, “Now let's get going. I want to stop by the electronics shop before we get on the ferry.”  
“Why?” Clara wanted to know as she followed after him. “What else do we need?”  
“A camera of course.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments!!! Unfortunately my internet at home is down (and I'm totally not posting this from work *clears throat*) and I'll be away for a con tomorrow and Saturday, so I won't be able to post another chapter before Sunday. I hope you'll enjoy this one in the meantime ;)

The sea wind was cool around his nose when he stepped on deck, intending to watch the English coast disappear from view along with everyone else. John couldn't remember the last time he had travelled by ship although he was sure that it must have been decades ago. It was slower, but he preferred it this way. It gave him a sense of travelling. Flying, on the other hand, was strange even though he had done it countless of times, but always just using it as a means to an end. It wasn't travelling, not really. Stepping on a plane in London and sleeping or drinking until he staggered off the plane in New York wasn't travelling. Watching one shore disappear and another appear hours later, _that_ was travelling, as was watching the roads fly by while he was driving.  
“What are you thinking?” Clara asked, pushing her face into his field of vision. She was smiling at him and John couldn't help but return her smile. He liked that woman and yes, he liked the fact that she was bossy. Sometimes there was comfort in handing over the reigns to someone else.  
“I was thinking that I should try out the camera and take a few photos of the coast before it's gone,” John replied and nodded towards the sight in front of them. In a few hours they would land in Denmark and John vowed to leave all his worries behind. He was running away, he had Clara by his side. It was going to be great.  
“I'm not stopping you,” Clara smiled and John decided to leave the thinking for later. He was here to enjoy himself.  
He took the cap off the lens and pointed his new camera straight at Clara, taking a picture before she could stop him.  
“Hey, you wanted to take pictures of the landscape, not me,” she complained.  
“The landscape is in the background.”  
Clara wrinkled her nose and turned around, leaning on the railing to watch the ship pass by the coast. John couldn't resist. She looked so pretty with her hair blown all over the place by the wind, so John raised his camera once more and shot another picture. He was about to put the camera away when suddenly John became aware of some giggling women behind him. He glanced at them, but then turned around to lean on the railing next to Clara. He was about to ask her if she wanted to go to one of the restaurants on board to have lunch when she spoke first.  
“I think you've got some admirers,” Clara said, nodding towards the women behind them. The tone in her voice was one he hadn't heard before and he couldn't quite determine what it meant.  
Instead of trying, John glanced over his shoulder once again and realized that Clara had been right. The women were staring at him and he shoved his sunglasses a little further up his nose and decided to look at the ocean instead. He wasn't in that kind of mood right now.

“You must have been a real ladykiller in your days,” Clara remarked.  
John turned to look at her, but her eyes remained firmly on the water in front of them. “ _In my days?_ ” he asked back, trying very hard not to show how hurt he was. True, he had aged, but he liked to think that he had aged well. Extremely well.  
“Yeah, you know,” Clara hesitated, “When you were younger.”  
John snorted. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, Clara, but my days haven't passed yet. As these ladies over there are proof of.”  
In response Clara pulled a face, but finally she looked at him. “Please don't try to make a point by going over there to flirt with them.”  
John really wasn't in the mood to flirt with anyone, but he got a small kick out of winding Clara up, so he decided to keep the game going for a moment longer.  
“Why? Are you afraid I'd score with one of them? That I'd leave you here and travel with them instead?” he asked.  
She laughed in response. “That's really not what I'm afraid of,” Clara countered, “More that you'll try to patch up your bruised ego with a bottle of whiskey tonight.”  
“In fact, I'm pretty sure I could score with both. At the same time,” John teased her and turned around to look at the two women, “They certainly seem the type.”  
“Stop it.”  
“You can join if you like.”  
“Really, stop,” Clara told him harshly.  
John smiled at her and gave Clara a soft nudge. “Hey, I'm sorry. I was just teasing you.”  
“Well, it wasn't funny,” she replied and looked down at her feet. John could tell that he had overdone it because something about the situation was clearly bothering her.  
“I'm sorry. I promise I'll contain my-,” he paused, “Myself. In my question mark pants.”  
Finally Clara started to laugh in earnest and looked back at him. “Yeah, it's unlikely you'll get lucky wearing those,” Clara said, but the smile soon faded from her lips. Instead she was looking at him as if she was trying to read something from his face. “I can't tell whether you're a Casanova or one of those _one true love_ kinda guys.”  
“Can't I be both?”  
“No, not really,” Clara shook her head.  
With a sigh John leaned back against the railing. He could tell her a bit, it didn't matter. Besides, it was far in his past by now. “I've had a true love or two. Didn't last. And the rest. . . well, that obviously didn't last either.”  
“How many?” she enquired curiously.  
John arched his eyebrows up. “How many what?”  
“How many women have you slept with?”  
Not as many as Jack, that was for sure. “It's just a number, Clara, it doesn't matter,” he told her and averted his eyes.  
“Well, I'll go first then. Four men and two women,” Clara said matter-of-factly.  
“That seems like a, uhm, a normal amount,” John remarked, keeping his eyes fixed on a point on the ship that wasn't Clara, “Why are we talking about this?”  
“Because we're getting to know each other. Technically, this is talking about the past, but not in a way that you'd have to hide. Unless there _is_ something to hide. So?”  
John cleared his throat, shuffling his feet nervously. He really wished that Clara would stop asking. “So what? Ow.”  
John held his arm where Clara had nudged him a little more roughly.  
“How many?” she asked, “You can tell me, I won't laugh. Just give me a number.”  
“I can't,” he said and quickly glanced away again.  
Clara snorted. “What do you mean you can't? Have you taken a vow that prevents you from answering my question?”  
He sighed. “No, I can't tell you because I don't know,” John replied and finally looked at her. There was that look of shock on Clara's face that he had expected and he immediately wished he hadn't said anything. He could have lied, he could gave given her any number and Clara would have believed it. But no, he was an idiot and he had told her the truth.

“I'm 57 years old. There have been women. I've never bothered to keep a list,” John argued, trying to somehow justify the fact that he was failing to remember just how many women he had been with. Even if he had had a clear head during on all of these occasions, there was no way he could count them all, not over the past 40 years.  
He watched as Clara swallowed and finally nodded. “Alright,” she said, “That's fine. That's. . . not what I expected, but fine.”  
John could tell that it wasn't _fine_ , not entirely. Somehow this little fact about him was bothering Clara, but he didn't want to ask her about it any further to avoid slipping deeper into this conversation.  
“You really don't know? Not even a vague idea?” she suddenly asked, the disbelief still audible in her voice.  
“You've been with two women. Should I pretend to be shocked about that so we can finally change the topic?” John spat. He really wanted her to stop talking about it. The amount of women he had slept with in his life had never been a reason to brag and admitting it in front of Clara was making him downright uncomfortable for some reason. They would have to share the motorhome and it would make things slightly awkward if she believed him to be incorrigible ladykiller who couldn't keep it in his pants.  
“New rule,” he added, “No hanky panky while we're travelling together. For either of us.”  
To his surprise Clara frowned at him. “Why are you making that rule?”  
“Because of that shocked look you're giving me, so I'm promising you not to bring other women into the motorhome and the same goes for you.”  
Clara laughed. “What? No women?”  
“Precisely,” John nodded, “Gonna be hard to focus on the driving while you're having fun with another girl in the back.”  
She chuckled. “What about men?”  
John glowered at her.  
“Fine,” Clara agreed and by now she looked visibly relieved. “No hanky panky. Got it.”  
“Good,” John sighed, “Now, please, let's forget this conversation ever happened and get something to eat. I'm starving.”  
“Alright,” Clara said with a smile and John offered her his arm so they could go to the restaurant together. Maybe, with a bit of luck, Clara would really forget all about this conversation or it could become a little awkward in the future. If she didn't forget about it, well, John would have to brace himself for a lot of teasing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments! I have internet again at last and I'm back from FedCon, so here comes the new chapter:

It was almost dark by the time they reached Denmark, so Clara didn't protest when John pulled the camper van up a deserted parking lot and switched off the engine. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh.  
“Congratulations, Clara,” he said and a moment later John turned around to smile at her.  
Clara laughed in confusion. “Why are you congratulating me?”  
“You can officially add Denmark to the list of countries you've visited.”  
“That's true,” she suddenly realized, “Oh my God, you're right. I'm officially a globetrotter.”  
“Well, I wouldn't go that far,” John replied, “We should set up camp here and talk about what route we're gonna take. And cook dinner.”  
“Ah,” Clara interrupted his enthusiasm, “We've still got some petrol station sandwiches that need to go.”  
“Damn,” he growled and turned around with his seat to climb into the back of their motorhome while Clara followed after him.  
Since it was still pleasantly warm outside they set up two camping chairs and a folding table in front of the van and Clara sank down in one of them, breathing in the foreign air that still smelled vaguely of sea. She was excited to see it all, especially Norway. Even though Clara didn't actually know much about the country she knew that everyone who had ever been there said it was beautiful. Well, soon she would see it with her own eyes.  
John joined her a few moments later, carrying the sandwiches and the whiskey that she should have known he would bring out again. He fell down on the other chair and uttered a deep sigh.  
“This is good,” he said, “This is perfect actually. Different country, lovely company, a nice drink, food that. . . doesn't taste as bad as you'd think.”  
Clara chuckled. “It's the last one. We'll have decent food after that.”  
“One can only hope,” John replied and took a swig of whiskey straight out of the bottle. Clara eyed it with suspicion whenever he drank. Maybe he wasn't an alcoholic, but she doubted it was as innocent as just wanting to enjoy a drink in the evening. No, Clara believed that he used it as some form of coping mechanism and for that it was a more than unhealthy choice. John had demons in his past, she should have known that right from the moment he had stumbled into the diner.  
Clara decided not to say anything for the moment and just enjoy being here, in his company, in this country that she had never seen before. John sank deeper into his chair and stretched his legs until he was almost sprawled out in it and Clara laughed at the sight of him.  
“What?” John asked, turning his head to look at her.  
“Don't move,” Clara giggled as she jumped up from her chair and darted off into the van to retrieve his camera from the table.  
“Look what we have here,” she said to make him turn around and snapped a photo of him before he had a chance to look away. “Gotcha!”  
“Meanie,” John growled and sipped his whiskey, but something about his expression told her that he was secretly amused.  
“I need those pictures when we get home,” she said, “As a reminder.”  
“When we get home?”  
Clara lowered the camera and looked straight at him. “Yeah, well, we'll have to get back home at some point.”  
“Possibly,” John shrugged, sinking just a little deeper into his chair, “I'd like to not think about that for a while. Not when the journey hasn't even started.”  
“Journey, good point,” Clara said. She took the whiskey out of his hand to have a sip before she handed it back to him and sat back down on her chair. “We wanted to talk routes.”  
“Yes,” John agreed and lifted himself into a decent sitting position, “Do you have the map?”  
Clara bent down to retrieve the map from under the table and spread it across the small table. John leaned a little closer to see it properly under the light coming from inside the van.  
“So, this is the route that leads over the bridge to Sweden,” he said and drew his finger along the road on the map. Clara watched him and couldn't help but notice his slender, elegant fingers. John really had beautiful hands and he moved them with such grace that for a moment she completely forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. His movements were so gentle, as if he was caressing the map instead of pointing at it.  
“So?”  
Clara raised her head and she could feel herself blush just a little when she realized how distracted she had been. “Sorry, what?”  
“We could reach the north of the country in a bit over three hours, I think. Another three or four until the ferry lands in Norway. The Sweden route would take longer, but we would see Copenhagen. And Sweden, of course.”  
“Which one do you think we should take?” Clara asked him.  
John just gave a shrug. “I'm fine with either. You're the boss, you pick,” he said and leaned back in his chair again before he had another swig of whiskey.  
Clara tried to hide it, but the tiniest hint of a smug smile still crossed her face. She liked being called the boss, not that she would admit that. Ah, the woman who secretly enjoyed being the boss and the man who secretly enjoyed being bossed around. They were made for each other.  
“The direct route,” she said eventually.  
“Straight to the point, I like that,” John grinned at her and continued to sip his drink, but his eyes remained on her the entire time. Clara tried her best to hold his gaze, but the heat soon rose back into her cheeks and she glanced away. Sometimes John had this way of looking at her that could fluster Clara for some reason she didn't fully understand.  
There were a lot of things she didn't understand when it came to John. Why he refused to talk about the past, why the idea of him having so many lovers that he had lost count upset her or even why she had run away with him in the first place. But somehow Clara felt like this was the exact place she was supposed to be, so the rest didn't really matter much.

John drank his whiskey in silence while Clara nibbled on her sandwich without real appetite. She was glad that come tomorrow they would start to cook decent food. Then John set his bottle down and reached for the camera, fiddling with the controls for a while before he raised it and snapped another photo of her.  
“Oh,” he uttered, “I'm afraid you're a bit blurry. Not enough light.”  
“Or too much whiskey,” she remarked.  
Despite her comment John raised the camera again and took another photograph, obviously determined to fill the memory card on the first day.  
“Stop taking blurry photos of me,” Clara chuckled.  
“I won't,” he said determinedly, but still lowered the camera to look at her properly. “I think you're beautiful.”  
Now Clara was blushing in earnest, but she tried her best not to let it show how flustered she actually was by leaning forward and taking the whiskey away from him. “Okay, we've reached that point,” she said and placed the bottle under the table, out of John's reach.  
However, he didn't seem to mind that much. Instead he granted her a smile before he finally placed the camera aside and started to eat his sandwich. Clara leaned back in her chair, unsure what to do next, but then she decided that it didn't matter. So what if John got a little flirty when he drank. There was no harm in that. No harm in a simple compliment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments. Yes, John and Clara are getting closer, but they're still hiding things from each other. . .

The coffee was already beginning to turn cold in his hand, but John was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a while to remember the beverage. He sipped it and instantly pulled a face when he realized he had made it too strong even for his own ruined taste buds. Today just wasn't his day. John hadn't actually thought much about it beforehand, but once he had woken up his morning it had hit him like a hammer over the head. Today was Amy's birthday.  
John sipped his coffee quietly despite the taste, wishing he could tell her happy birthday, wishing he could tell her that he loved her, that it hadn't been her fault, that she shouldn't worry about him. But even if there was a way to contact her without giving away where he was, John wouldn't know how. He had lost his phone on the beach that night and he had never bothered to learn a phone number by heart. Still John couldn't bring himself to regret the night he had run away.  
“You're up,” Clara's voice made him turn around and he watched her climb down the ladder of the bunk bed.  
“I've made coffee if you're brave enough.”  
She tottered towards the kitchen area and poured herself a cup of coffee before she slid into the seat across from him with a yawn. John waited until she finally took a sip and her face turned into a grimace of disgust. He was hardly able to hold back the laughter.  
“Good God!” she blurted out and she looked as if she was only just resisting the urge to spit the brew back into the mug. “This could bring people back from the dead.”  
John chuckled at her reaction.  
“Seriously,” Clara said, pointing at the mug in front of her, “If you keep the spoon in long enough, it will dissolve.”  
“Well, it dissolved the six sugars I put in,” John remarked and raised his mug back to his mouth when he suddenly became aware of how intently Clara was watching him.  
“You're sad,” she remarked after a moment.  
John uttered a nervous laugh. “I'm not. I'm making jokes. I'm laughing. What makes you think I'm sad?”  
“The smile looks a bit forced.”  
With a sigh John set the mug down for good and lowered his gaze even though he wasn't quite sure why. Clara had already seen through him. There was no point in pretending otherwise.  
“It's my best friend's birthday today,” he admitted, “And I can't be there to celebrate with her.”  
Clara shrugged and granted him a smile. “You could call her.”  
“Lost my phone.”  
“Oh,” she uttered and fell silent for a moment, “Well, does she have other friends? Family?”  
“Yeah,” John confirmed, “Her husband has been planing her present for months.”  
“It's not so bad then, is it? I mean, she'll be among friends and family and you can just tell her happy birthday when you get back. I'm sure she'll understand.”  
John forced himself to smile once more. When he got back, if he got back, Amy would never speak to him again for the rest of her life. He had fucked it all up.  
To his surprise Clara rose from her seat and held out her arms while John only eyed her in confusion.  
“Come here,” she prompted him, “Let me give you a hug.”  
“Why?” he asked, not entirely sure what he had done to deserve one.  
“Just let me, okay?” Clara rolled her eyes and made a waving hand gesture, indicating for him to finally get off his arse and hug her.  
Eventually John rose from his seat and approached her carefully. He wasn't really the hugging type, but right now he didn't mind the idea all too much. Gently Clara wrapped her arms around his neck, and she had to go up on tiptoes to reach it, while John reluctantly folded his arms around her back. It wasn't a bad feeling, not at all. Quite the contrary. When Clara squeezed him a little more tightly John felt himself lean deeper into the embrace, burying his face in her shoulder and for a moment just enjoying the warmth that came from her body. John had known Clara only for a few days, but he could already tell that he couldn't have chosen a better companion to travel with. Somehow Clara was just exactly what he needed right now.  
“It's my Mum's birthday, too,” she admitted after a while and eventually, after what had seemed like minutes, Clara released him from the embrace.  
“Do you want to call her?” John found himself asking.  
In response Clara granted him a smile, but it was a sad one. “I wish I could.”  
Somehow he understood. It was that look on her face, that sentiment that he knew all too well. “I'm sorry,” he said sincerely.  
“I think I'll give my grandma a call,” Clara determined, “If you turn out to be a Venezuelan drug smuggler and we end up in prison, someone should know where I am, don't you think?”  
“Is she rich enough to post our bail?”  
Clara shook her head.  
“Then don't bother.”  
“I'll keep it short. You can make breakfast in the meantime,” she said while she reached for her phone and before John could reply anything else, he watched her head out of the camper van.  
John looked at the door even after it had closed already, unable to tear his gaze away. He liked her. He really, really liked her.

* * *

“Hey Grandma, it's me,” Clara smiled into the phone as soon as her grandmother had picked up, “Guess where I am!”  
“Hello dear,” she responded and Clara instantly realized that she still sounded a little sleepy.  
“Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”  
“Not at all. I was just on my way to make tea when the phone rang,” she replied, “Where are you? Still that American style diner in Dorset?”  
“Nope,” Clara grinned proudly even though her grandmother couldn't see it. “I'm doing it. I'm finally doing it. I'm travelling.”  
There was a silence on the other end of the line and somehow Clara knew what was about to follow because they had had this conversation before. But she'd be damned to let her grandmother ruin it for her. If she didn't support Clara, no one would.  
“I'm in Denmark. Heading for Norway in a bit,” she explained, “I'm excited.”  
“Are you alone?” her grandmother wanted to know.  
“No,” Clara admitted. But how was she supposed to explain John to her? Her grandmother was likely to call the police if she knew that her granddaughter was travelling the world with a complete stranger in a camper van. “With a friend. We both just wanted to get away for a bit.”  
Her grandmother sighed in reply. “You've been away for a bit, Clara. Several months actually. Don't you think that it's time to come home?”  
“I can't,” she replied heavily, “Not yet. I've been wanting to travel for so long. I just want to see the world before it's too late.”  
“Clara, you have your whole life-”  
“That's what Danny said,” Clara hissed sharply, “And where is he now?”  
Her grandmother hesitated before she spoke.  
“I love you and you will always have my support, you know that,” she said after a moment, “But can I worry about my only granddaughter for a moment? You had a beautiful flat, a great job. I want you to see the world, but not if it means throwing your life away for that.”  
“I didn't throw anything away. I merely. . . pressed pause. I'll come back, I promise. There's nothing wrong with just drifting for a while.”  
Clara could tell her grandmother a lot of things, but not everything that had gone through her head since Danny. She wouldn't understand. She would worry, but she wouldn't understand. For months Clara had felt as if she had been trapped in a cage where her only company had been an hourglass and she had watched her life pass her by. Now she was living it again, the only way she knew how to. She just wanted to feel something that wasn't boredom.  
“I'll be back, I promise,” she told her grandmother, “Let me explore the world for a bit. Danny would have wanted that for me.”  
All her grandmother uttered was a sigh and Clara bit down on her lip. It was a lie, a big, fat lie. Danny would have called her insane for running off to Norway with a stranger, but her grandma didn't need to know that.  
“I'll send you a postcard.”  
“I'll only accept the prettiest you can find.”  
“As good as done,” Clara chuckled and turned around to face the motorhome. John would have prepared breakfast by now and in a few hours they would be in yet another country she hadn't seen before. “I'll call you. Bye.”  
Clara hung up and inhaled deeply. Nothing and no one would spoil this trip for her, not when she was so determined to enjoy herself. Finally, after 28 years, it felt like her life had begun at last.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comment :)

Clara was mesmerized. John could tell how much she loved it just by looking at her face, that light smile curling up the corners of her mouth, that twinkling in her eyes. Suddenly John felt a stab of pride because going to Norway had been his idea and he had brought her along. She loved it and maybe he was hoping she would extend that sentiment to him.  
He quickly brushed the thought aside, knowing that he shouldn't even dream about that. It was a bad idea, a really, really bad one. He liked Clara, but flirting with her would only result in trouble. He could restrain himself for a while, he didn't need to play with her just because she was pretty. She wasn't his usual type of conquest and maybe that was why it was so tempting to flirt with her. No, playing with a woman like Clara could backfire terribly and a broken heart was the last thing he needed at this point.  
“We could possibly look at a few towns on the south coast before he find a nice spot for the night,” John suggested, “The higher we go the longer we'll have daylight.”  
“Sounds good,” Clara agreed and turned around, smiling at him. Her hair was all over the place again, dishevelled by the wind. She looked so wild and carefree like this.  
No, John reminded himself, he wouldn't flirt.  
“I've read that at a certain point it won't be dark at all,” she added.  
John nodded. “Yes, around the summer solstice once you've crossed the Arctic circle. The sun won't set at all.”  
“Can we see that?” Clara asked him, the excitement written all over her face. How could he possibly say no when she looked at him like that?  
“Sure, if you can stand my company for three weeks,” he replied and leaned on the railing to look across the water. The Norwegian coast was visible already.  
“Or you mine,” she giggled, joining him at the railing, “So, that's the plan? Drive north, look at the country?”  
“First we need to stop at a bank. We'll need petrol and for that we'll need Norwegian money.”  
“Oh,” she uttered, “I didn't even consider that.”  
John turned his head, smiling at her. “Cause you don't travel much, but, yes, some countries in the world have other currencies outside the pound. Not many. Just a few.”  
Clara nudged him softly, laughing. “Stop making fun of me.”  
“See that town over there?” John asked her. Clara looked ahead, but she was facing the wrong direction. Gently he placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, and pointed straight at it. “That's a place you've never been to before and it's exactly where we're going.”  
Clara turned her head, beaming at him. “Exciting,” she giggled, “I've never done anything like this before.”  
“What? Run away with a stranger?” John cocked his eyebrow at her, “Oh, I don't know. You're pretty good at it. I had assumed you did that on a daily basis.”  
“I told you to stop making fun of me,” Clara complained, but when she smiled at him John was certain that she didn't mind a little teasing at all.  
“Ah,” he inhaled deeply as he leaned his back against the railing, looking right at her, “We'll make a globetrotter out of you yet, trust me.”

The left the ferry in the early evening and, just as John had expected, the sun was still high up in the sky as the drove to the nearest bank to get some money and afterwards to stock up on petrol. When John stepped out of the petrol station, breathing in the Norwegian air, he felt reassured once more. It had been a good decision. Maybe not the right one, maybe a selfish one, but a good decision. He had completely forgotten how much he loved the country. As he approached the camper van again, John found Clara leaning against in, looking at her surroundings.  
“Can you smell it?” John asked once he had reached her.  
“What? The petrol?”  
“No,” he laughed, “The sea. Norway. Freedom.”  
John came to a halt next to Clara and inhaled deeply. Okay, maybe she was right.  
“Unless freedom smells like petrol, I don't. Not really,” she said and nudged him softly, “Come on, let's get going. I want to see some things outside this station.”

John watched her as she jumped into the back of the camper van and decided to follow after her after a moment to go ahead with their journey. He had already made a plan in his head about what he wanted to see and show Clara.  
“Listen,” he said as he had stepped into the motorhome as well, “I think we should head for Hardanger and-”  
John stopped dead in his tracks when he suddenly noticed that Clara had taken her top off for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, but the sight of her in just her underwear still left him speechless for a moment. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't really expected anything, especially not finding Clara half naked.  
“Uhm-”  
“Could you be a gentleman and turn around while I change?” she asked and continued to rummage through her suitcase, hardly paying any attention to his presence at all.  
Still John took a moment to actually realized what she had asked of him. He spun around on his heels to give Clara the privacy she had asked for.  
“Sorry, uhm,” he spluttered, “Didn't really expect to, erm, you to. . . undress. Sorry.”  
Why was he spluttering? Why was he nervous all of a sudden? It wasn't his first time seeing a beautiful, young woman in her underwear, far from it. In fact, he had seen a lot of beautiful, young women completely naked, but this time it had come as a surprise. This time it was one he wasn't supposed to look at or flirt with, even though a part of him wanted to. Oh yes, a part of him didn't want to be a gentleman at all and instead turn around and watch her. Clara was turning out to be a temptation he hadn't seen coming at all even though he knew that he should have. Jack was right. He was a selfish bastard after all.  
“Done,” Clara's voice suddenly said behind him and John turned back around, noticing that she had changed into a cute summer dress. “Didn't really expect it to be this warm in Norway. Everyone keeps saying how cold it is.”  
“Well,” John cleared his throat, “Norway has summer, too. It'll get cooler the further north we go. So don't put your jumper too far away.”  
“I won't,” Clara said, smiling at him, “So, where did you say we should go?”  
John raised his eyebrows at her, not really knowing what she was talking about.  
“You said we should go to a hangar or something.”  
“Oh, right,” he blurted out, “Not hangar. Hardanger. There's a beautiful fjord there that you should definitely see. It will probably take us a day to get there. Unless you'd prefer to drive up the west coast, in which case it could take a bit longer. Depending on how often we stop.”  
Clara replied with a shrug. “I'm in no hurry.”  
“Good,” John concluded, “Good. Long way round it is then.”  
She beamed at him before she skipped ahead and made her way past him to the front of the car, leaving John still somewhat baffled and confused. Yes, Clara was a temptation he hadn't expected, but he would not give in, no matter how sweet and beautiful she was. This time he wouldn't be selfish.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song John sings in this chapter is "Peace Train" by Cat Stevens and it's a great one. I can only recommend you listen to it :)
> 
> Thank you for the comment :) Also, why aren't people asking when they're gonna kiss? Come on, guys! Ask me!

John wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled sharply. It was a hot day, maybe the hottest the country had ever seen and he didn't want to turn the AC up too much to avoid getting a nasty cold. Yet slowly but surely the heat was beginning to bother him and he needed a break soon or else he would simply melt into one piece with the steering wheel.  
“Can we go for a swim?” Clara asked next to him and when John turned his head he noticed that she, too, was sweating and using the van's manual to fan herself. “Seriously, I know the water is probably gonna be freezing, but right now I don't care about that in the least.”  
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” he agreed and blew the air out between his lips, “But judging by how humid it is we'll have rain in a day or two.”  
“I don't care. I need to get wet now.”  
John opened his mouth to reply, but before he had a chance to say anything Clara had already noticed her Freudian slip and swiftly went ahead.  
“Sorry, uhm,” she stammered, “You know what I mean. Cool down. Go for a swim.”  
He chuckled at how flustered Clara was all of a sudden and it made him feel a little better about being nervous when he had caught her in her underwear the day before. It was nothing. They were friends. Friends laughed about this sort of thing.  
“Stop laughing and find a nice beach, okay?” Clara said, smiling at him. Her cheeks were still a little reddened, but it suited her. She was cute when she was nervous.  
“Okay,” John agreed after a moment and turned left to where he suspected the ocean was at the moment.

They drove for a while longer and John could already see the water on the horizon, yet the cliffs and fjords made it hard to find an appropriate spot for a swim. Then, after another hour, he finally found access to the water that couldn't quite be called a beach, but it was shallow enough to get to the water.  
“I'm gonna go into the back and change, don't follow,” Clara said and turned around with her seat when John suddenly realized the lack of something quite important.  
“I, uhm,” he hesitated, “I don't have any swimming trunks.”  
Clara rose to her feet and gave him a slight shrug. “I recall a pair of question mark underpants that you could use instead. I'm sure they're dying for a wash anyway. Which reminds me, can we stop by a laundrette in the next few days?”  
“Sure, if we can find one,” John replied before his gaze darkened, “Also I'd like to point out that I change my underwear. Occasionally.”  
Clara chuckled in response. “Give it a wash anyway,” she replied before she vanished into the back.  
John stayed in his seat, merely stripping out of his clothes and discarding them on the floor until he wore nothing but his underwear and yes, maybe Clara was right. They should definitely find a laundrette because he hadn't actually packed a lot of clothes when he had left on a whim and most of them had already been worn. He should definitely give them a wash or even buy some new clothes.  
“Done,” Clara announced a few moments later before she appeared back in the front of the van, her hair tied up in a bun and a towel wrapped around her body. “Ready?”  
“Ready,” John confirmed.

They made their way down to the water across the stony shore and when Clara cast her towel aside John decided that this time he wouldn't be a gentleman. He had vowed not to flirt, not to touch, but that didn't mean he couldn't look at what was right in front of him. Clara was perfect, everything about her was small and firm and he wondered what it would feel like to touch her bare skin, to run his hands over her hips, wondered what sounds she would make if he kissed the crook of her neck. If the circumstances had been any different, John wouldn't have hesitated, but as it was, Clara was a problem he didn't need. Finally, when she dipped her toe into the water, John tore his gaze away before his thoughts became obvious even for Clara to see. She was his friend, his travelling companion and it would stay that way. No need to pick his old habits back up.  
“Are you coming or what?” Clara turned around on the spot and laughed at him, “Come on, the water is freezing, but it's great!”  
Without a warning she dove into the fjord, an action that was followed by screaming.  
“Oh my God, it's so cold!” she exclaimed loudly.  
John chuckled, but eventually followed Clara into the water. She was right, it was cold indeed, but pleasantly so and John let himself fall into the fjord, enjoying the feeling of not melting in the heat for a moment.  
“It's nice,” he said thoughtfully, “Nice and cool.”  
“Definitely,” Clara agreed.  
They swam for a while and John was glad that the cold water was taking his mind off the woman swimming next to him. He would not flirt with her, no matter how sweet she was. He just had to remind himself of that.

When the water was beginning to grow a little too cold they both headed back to the shore and afterwards to the motorhome to dry off. The swimming had left them both hungry and a few minutes after she had changed back into her dress Clara declared that it was time for lunch.  
“Great idea,” John agreed, “Do you want me to cook?”  
“No, that's fine,” she shook her head, smiling, “I'll do it.”  
“What if I get bored in the meantime?”  
Clara chuckled in response and nodded towards the guitar case that was carefully propped up next to John's bed. “You could play something. I liked what you played back in England. You were good.”  
“Alright,” he replied and inhaled deeply as he took up his guitar and opened the case. He loved playing it, he always had, but now, every time he did, he thought of Amy and everyone else he had left behind. Maybe he should play more, connect some new memories with it.  
John sat down in the sitting area and propped the guitar up on his lap while Clara busied herself in the kitchen. The instrument was still properly tuned as he had taken care of that while Clara had been under the shower this morning and John started with a couple of simple chords, not really knowing what song he should start with. Something good, something hopeful, that was what he needed right now. Then the perfect one came to his mind.  
“ _Now I've been happy lately, thinking about the good things to come_ ,” he sang softly, “ _And I believe it could be something good has begun._ ”  
John stopped all of a sudden when Clara spun around and he was becoming aware of how intently she was watching him.  
“Don't stop,” she almost whispered, her eyes glued to him. Oh, he knew that look on her face all too well. He had seen it so, so often, but he wouldn't give in. Not to Clara. No matter how she looked at him through those big, dark eyes. “You're really good at that. In fact, you should do it professionally.”  
John scoffed. “Nah,” he replied.  
“Yes, you should. You could be famous,” Clara argued.  
“Who wants to be famous?” John replied, lowering his gaze and brushing a speck of dust off his guitar. When he spoke again his voice was almost sad. “Fame is boring.”  
“Fine, but you can still continue. I really loved it,” she said sincerely and when John looked up he saw all that admiration in her eyes. Clara shouldn't admire him, but how could he resist that look on her face?  
“Only if you make us lunch. I'm starving,” he insisted.  
“Deal,” Clara agreed, chuckling, and turned back towards the small stove.  
John sighed and quietly played a couple of riffs, but he didn't start singing again. He didn't want Clara to start admiring him because he knew where that would eventually lead.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet, sweet comments :) They always bring a smile to my face <3

There was nothing in the entire world except for Clara and the breathtaking view in front of her, nothing else got through to her at this moment as she stood on the ledge and stared down at the vast landscape beneath her feet. It wasn't like anything she had ever seen before, at least not with her own two eyes. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the clean air that smelled of salt and sea, and even though it was still warm enough for a summer dress, the air felt fresh and the wind kept blowing her hair into her face. Beneath her feet, under the ledge, was the most amazing sight Clara had ever seen. Rocks, cliffs and the water winding between them like a giant snake that was as clear and blue as the sky above her head. Right now, at this moment, she loved John with all her heart for bringing her here.  
The clicking of the camera tore her out of her thoughts and Clara turned around to see that John was snapping pictures of her again. She laughed at the sight of him.  
“Do you like it?” he asked her as if he wasn't entirely sure.  
“Like it?” Clara cocked an eyebrow at him before she turned back around, her eyes once again resting on the sight of the fjord, “I love it. It's beautiful, it's amazing, it's-”  
“Too beautiful to be put into words,” John finished her sentence as he came to a halt next to her. He had stopped taking photos, the camera now dangling from his neck. “I know. I've been here a few times and it still baffles me. Would you like to sit?”  
Clara turned her head, looking up at him. “Sit? Where?”  
He nodded towards the edge of the cliff and Clara's mouth fell open.  
“No way,” she blurted out, “I'm not taking another step towards that edge. No, I'll stay right here.”  
“Come on,” he prompted her with a smile as he held out his hand to her, “I'll hold you. Trust me, you don't want to miss this.”  
Still Clara hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand cautiously. She wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but walking up to the very edge of the ledge with nothing beneath her feet but a bit of rock took a lot of trust.  
“What if I fall? What if I stumble and fall right down the cliff?”  
John chuckled softly. “In that case you'll be very dead,” he said and Clara frowned at him for that. “You won't fall. I promise I'll hold you.”  
Finally Clara reached out and took John's hand and he carefully walked them further towards the edge. Clara's legs had felt a little wobbly in the beginning, but she had gotten used to the height, yet now that they were approaching the very edge they were once again beginning to shake a little. There was also this weird feeling in her stomach, this tingling that grew stronger and stronger the further they walked and then, at some point, Clara simply couldn't take it anymore and stepped back again.  
“I can't,” she blurted out nervously, “It's too high.”  
Her eyes were fixed on the landscape beneath her feet and from up here everything was so tiny, so far away. It was beautiful and scary. Yet out of the corner of her eye she saw that John was still smiling at her.  
“I'll be right here with you. There's no need to be afraid,” he said gently and after taking a deep breath she reached for his hand again.  
Together they made their way to the very end of the ledge and John steadied her as she sat down. Her entire body was tingling all over, the excitement and adrenaline coursing through her veins like fire and yet, as soon as she had sat down, a strange sense of calmness came over her. John took a seat next to her.  
“Oh my God,” Clara exhaled and all of a sudden she couldn't help but start to laugh. She was sitting on a ledge high above the ground and her feet were dangling in the air. It was insane and yet it was real.  
“So, do you regret running away with a stranger?” John asked her and when she turned her head she saw how intently he was looking at her.  
She smiled and shook her head. “I think this has been the best decision of my life,” Clara replied truthfully. “All those years I've wanted to travel and I never have. Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“For convincing me to do it. For bringing me along.” She beamed at him. “I don't think I could have found a better person to travel with.”  
John smiled at her in reply. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”  
In the spur of the moment Clara leaned her head against his shoulder and inhaled deeply when she caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was a nice scent. He was a nice man. Right now Clara wanted nothing more than to stay right here, exactly like this for a while.

* * *

The night was too warm to go to sleep already and even though they had parked the motorhome on a quiet spot a while ago and they had already had dinner Clara didn't feel tired at all. When John suggest to sit outside for a while she was all too happy to agree. John turned up the volume of the car stereo that played an old rock song Clara didn't recognize and with two glasses and his usual bottle of whiskey he soon joined her outside on the camping chairs.  
“Lovely night,” Clara noted, looking at the twilight around them. It was almost midnight and still not really dark.  
“Agreed,” John said and poured them both a glass of the whiskey he had brought outside.  
Clara accepted thankfully. It wasn't her preferred drink, but she had to admit that the brand he had chosen didn't taste half bad. She sipped it carefully.  
“Why do you drink so much?” she asked him, eyeing John closely.  
He emptied his glass and shrugged. “I'm Scottish.”  
Clara chuckled in response. “You say that as if it was a completely legitimate reason to be an alcoholic.”  
“Have you ever been to Scotland?” he asked back, raising his eyebrows at her.  
She could tell that there was a story behind his drinking as there was behind his sadness, but they had an agreement. They would not talk about the past and right now Clara wasn't in the mood to push it. It had been a lovely day and she didn't feel like ruining it with questions. They were in Norway, they were together and he seemed like a nice person. The rest shouldn't matter to her.  
“Stop brooding,” Clara told him all of a sudden, smiling at him.  
“I'm not.”  
“Yes, you are,” she argued, “Come on. We're here to have a nice time. Let's have some fun.”  
John cleared his throat and suddenly he looked a little insecure. “What exactly is your idea of fun?” he asked. “I mean, I know what mine is. Sitting here. Good music. Good drink.”  
When the song changed Clara started to recognize the melody as a song by Status Quo and all of a sudden she had an idea.  
“Wait here, I know what we can do,” she said excitedly and jumped up from her chair to rush back to the van. She quickly turned up the volume a little more before she made her way back to John, moving around to the rhythm of the music.  
“We could dance,” she suggested, giggling and twirling around, “I love this song.”  
John finished his drink, his eyes never leaving her and for a moment Clara actually thought he would join in. Then, after he had set his glass down, he granted her a smile.  
“I don't really dance,” he said and nodded in her direction, “But do go on. I'm already having fun just watching.”  
Clara stopped and noticed that there was something in his gaze that she didn't quite understand, but right now she didn't really care what it meant. She would get John to dance with her.  
Clara approached him and reached for his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. She had expected resistance and, as it turned out, she had been right. John smiled at her as she tugged at his arm in vain and Clara giggled in response. Then suddenly she felt something she hadn't expected. John pulled his own arm back the moment she tried drag him up and Clara lost her balance, falling forward and landing right on his lap.

A long moment passed before Clara realized what exactly had happened and she found herself on John's lap and for a reason she didn't quite understand he had wrapped his arms around her back, keeping her exactly in place as he looked at her.  
“Uhm,” she spluttered, slightly lost for words at the sudden, unexpected closeness, “Sorry.”  
“No harm done,” John replied, his eyes fixed on her. There was still that look on his face and she felt him raise one of his hands to brush a strand of her out of her face. His touch was soft when he tightened it behind her ear and Clara found that her skin tingled a little where he touched her.  
Clara had no idea what to do. She should probably move, get up, but he was holding her and right now she didn't actually want to move at all. It was nice. Being close to him was nice. There was that scent again, that lovely scent of his aftershave and Clara leaned just a little closer, steadying herself by placing her hands on his chest. His chest. It felt good beneath her palms and she was so, so close to him.  
“Are you okay?” John asked her sincerely.  
She swallowed and nodded and suddenly there was a question in her head. Why not? John was an attractive man, really attractive, and Clara wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She would probably be one in a thousand, but right now it didn't matter. She was single, they were alone. There was no harm in that.  
John craned his neck as if reading her thoughts and Clara bent down just a little until she could smell the whiskey on his breath. Their lips were almost touching already. She could do it. She could kiss him and, by God, she wanted to.

There was a cracking sound and the next thing Clara felt was that the chair gave way underneath them, unable to carry them both at once, and they tumbled to the ground with a thud.  
“Ow,” Clara uttered when she landed next to John, but to her surprise he was laughing.  
“I think we need a new chair,” he chuckled.  
“I think you're right,” Clara replied and joined in, laughing at the comedy of the situation. She hadn't kissed him, but the moment had vanished the second the chair had given way under them and maybe it was for the best. It could have caused some awkwardness between them for the rest of their journey. Yes, maybe it was better for them both.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so, sooooo much for all your amazing comments *group hug* I'm so glad you've enjoyed their almost kiss :D Now, let's see how you like this chapter. . .
> 
> As for the comment asking their journey to go on forever - it can't, cause where would I put all the angst that I've planned? :O

John was surprised to see that the stave church looked a lot bigger on the inside than it did from the outside. He had passed it on multiple occasions, but never actually bothered to have a look inside until Clara had pleaded with him to go and check it out.  
“How old is this?” she asked in amazement when she stopped next to him, but her eyes were fixed on the wood structure above their heads. It looked old, but not nearly as old as it actually was.  
“Uhm, late 12th century,” John explained.  
“It's amazing,” Clara uttered, “I mean, it's a Christian church, but it still sort of has this. . . Viking vibe. Did you see the carvings outside?”  
“Yeah, I did,” he confirmed and raised his head to the ceiling when he suddenly started to hear a sound that didn't bode well for them. It was a dripping sound at first, soft, slow. It was starting to rain and John considered their van that was parked a good walking distance away. They hadn't brought an umbrella.  
Suddenly Clara started to shiver next to him, covering her bare arms with her hands. “It's quite chilly in here, isn't it?”  
John tried his best not to smile, but yes, he had noticed, but he hadn't wanted to point it out. “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment. “Yeah, it is a bit.”  
Clara gave him a soft nudge, making him turn around to look at her. “That was your cue, John.”  
He frowned at her. “My cue?”  
“You're wearing a jumper _and_ a hoodie,” Clara gestured towards him and John suddenly realized what she was aiming at, but he decided to play stupid for a moment longer. She was cute like this, trying to find the best way to ask him to be a gentleman. “Give me your hoodie.”  
John chuckled in response. “No, I don't think so. Should have brought your own hoodie,” he replied and a smirk spread over his lips as he turned to look at her chest. “Besides. . .”  
“Oh,” Clara gasped before she went to nudge him again, growling at him. “Men!”  
He laughed at her reaction and that little smile on her face told him that she wasn't actually mad at him at all. John had vowed not to flirt, but with every passing day it was becoming harder and harder. Clara was amazing and if he was completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to pull her against his own body and kiss her until they ran out of breath. He had tried to resist it, but last night he hadn't been able to help himself. Clara didn't seem to have noticed it, but her landing on his lap had been anything but an accident and then he had almost kissed her. A part of him had thought that Clara wouldn't have minded it at all, but then that damned camping chair had ruined the mood. Maybe it had been for the best.  
“Alright,” John sighed after a moment and unzipped his hoodie before he draped it around Clara's shoulders with a smile. He rubbed her arms until he was sure she was properly warmed up. “Better?”  
“Much better,” she confirmed and before John could do anything about it, Clara had pushed herself up on tiptoes and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. The sensation of her lips on his skin was gone before he had even registered it properly and it left him craving for just a little more. “Thank you.”  
Could he risk it? Just bend down and kiss her in the middle of a 12th century church? Would Clara let him?  
When she raised her head to look at the ceiling John was torn out of his thoughts and he realized just what it was that she had noticed. The dripping sound had turned into pelting as the rain was hitting the old roof and John just knew that they wouldn't reach the motorhome before they were completely soaked.  
“Wait or run?” she asked him.  
The clap of thunder roared through the church while John and Clara exchanged a look that told him they were thinking the exact same thing. To get back to the van before the weather got any worse. He grabbed her hand and together they darted outside.

Of course they were completely and utterly soaked by the time they reached the van and John instantly turned on the heating in the back while Clara stripped out of his dripping hoodie and reached for the nearest towel to dry her hair. Even though he was drenched to the bones and should be thinking about drying himself off, John couldn't help but watch Clara and think about what he had wanted to do earlier. It seemed as if they just weren't supposed to kiss. The chair. The rain. It was a sign. He really shouldn't flirt with her, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted it more with every passing day.  
“I'm gonna go into the bathroom and chance. You should do the same,” Clara told him and nodded towards his dripping clothes. Yeah, the moment was definitely gone once more.  
“I will,” he said with a sigh before Clara vanished into the bathroom. He would just have to find a way to take his mind off Clara.

* * *

“You know, you could give that hoodie back at some point,” John remarked, sipping his whiskey slowly.  
Clara giggled and pulled the hoodie closer around her body in protest. As soon as it had been dry enough to be worn again Clara had snatched it up and wrapped herself in the dark fabric. She loved how big it was on her, how cosy, loved how the scent of John clung to it and she wouldn't give it up again without a fight.  
Clara watched as he poured himself another drink. A part of her wanted to stop him from having any more and yet another part considered also having a glass when her gaze wandered to the window and she saw the nasty weather that was raging outside.  
“So, what's the plan for tomorrow?” she asked him.  
“If the weather's nice we'll have a look at another fjord,” he said.  
“And if it isn't?”  
John raised his glass to her before he downed its content. “We'll stay in here and get drunk. Not much else we can do,” he replied with a shrug.  
John leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and sighed and Clara could tell that the whiskey was beginning to have an effect on him. He had had more than on the previous evenings and she vowed to make him stop drinking before she had to carry him to bed.  
She looked out of the window once more, into the semi-darkness where the stave church and its graveyard almost vanished behind the veil of rain. It had been raining like this on the day she had buried Danny and Clara wasn't quite sure why she thought about him now. Here in Norway, in John's company, it seemed like a lifetime ago.  
“I wonder if Danny passed this church when he was in Norway on a fishing trip with his friends,” she wondered and hardly noticed that she had actually said it out loud.  
“Danny?” John asked as he sat up. His words sounded a little slurred. “Who's Danny?”  
Clara sighed and continued to look out of the window, hardly paying attention to John who poured himself another drink.  
“He was my boyfriend,” she explained after a moment, “He died in a car accident.”  
John took a large sip from the glass, savouring the taste in his mouth before he swallowed, but his eyes never left her. “You seem to lose a lot of people.”  
“Yep,” Clara agreed and reached across the table, taking the glass out of John's hand to finish the drink for him. “So I decided not to get attached anymore.”  
John scoffed as he pulled his glass back, refilling it before he spoke. “I've been thinking the same thing.” he slurred, shrugging, “But I can never help myself.”  
“Tell me about your best friend,” Clara prompted him, knowing that in his state he had probably forgotten all about his vow not to talk about the past. It wasn't just that she was curious. John seemed so sad whenever the thought of his friends crossed his mind and she would love to offer him some help or comfort.  
John downed his drink and set the glass down with a loud thud before he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “I screwed up,” he admitted weakly, “I always do that.”  
“How?” Clara wanted to know.  
He raised his head and looked straight at her while a sad smile formed on his lips. “We were happy, the entire team,” he said, “I wanted it to stay that way. I did all I could. Didn't realize I was getting between them, didn't see that they wanted out. Jack's right. I'm selfish and a bastard.”  
Clara couldn't really make sense of what he was telling her, but she knew one thing for certain: John wasn't a selfish bastard.  
He slumped down in his seat and for a moment Clara thought he would start to cry. Instead he went on. “I'm sorry,” he slurred, “I'm sorry I am like this.”  
When John leaned forward and tried to reach for the whiskey once more, Clara got hold of his hands and held them firmly in her own, causing John to look up at her. He looked so sad and broken that it tugged at her heartstrings.  
“Listen to me,” she told him, “Don't you dare apologize for who you are. No one's perfect, but you have been nothing but kind to me ever since we met.”  
He scoffed. “You haven't known me that long.”  
“Doesn't matter,” she argued and granted him a smile, “I like you exactly the way you are.”  
Finally John cracked a soft, weak smile.  
“Come on,” Clara prompted him, “Off to bed.”

John didn't protest when she walked around the table and helped lift him up before they slowly made their way back towards the bunk beds. He was unsteady on his feet and obviously relieved when he could sink down on his mattress, but he still seemed as sad and beaten as on the night she had met him, so Clara made a decision. She needed to cheer him up.  
Without thinking about it any further Clara climbed into bed next to him and if John was surprised, he didn't show it while she cupped his cheek in her palm to make him look at her.  
“Listen, I don't know what happened with your friends, but it's obvious that you're unhappy about the way it ended,” she told him gently, “You need to talk to them when you get back.”  
“I can't,” he protested weakly, his voice hardly a whisper.  
“Yes, you can. And you also need to stop drinking so much. It's not good for you.”  
John chuckled softly. “You're bossy.”  
“Yes, so you better listen to me, right?” she said, smiling, and to her surprise John smiled back at her.  
He was drunk and tired and sad and it was anything but the right moment, but as Clara looked at him, his face so close to her own, she couldn't help herself. She bent forward and placed a soft, gently kiss on his lips.  
Clara was about to pull away when John moved and placed his arm around her to pull her closer as if he had already expected her to kiss him, as if he had waited for her to do it. He opened his mouth and Clara could feel his tongue clumsily trying to find its way into her mouth as she yielded to the kiss and allowed John to do whatever he wanted. She hadn't expected him to go for it the way he did, but right now Clara didn't mind at all while he kissed her hungrily and she became more and more aware of the tingling sensation that was beginning to spread over her body, settling between her legs as a way of telling her just how much his kiss was beginning to turn her on. Her hand wandered to his hair, keeping a tight grip on it to keep him exactly in place while John held her against his body and moaned into her mouth, a sound that seemed to shoot straight through her. Clara wanted him and she wanted him now even when they broke apart, gasping for air. How far could they go?  
Once their lips parted Clara pushed him to lie flat on his back and his head sank deep into the pillow when she straddled his lap, but there was no reaction from him.  
“John?” she whispered softly, stroking his chest with her hand. Still he didn't react. “John?”  
When he started to snore Clara was torn between slapping him awake and leaving him alone and she decided that he probably needed all the sleep he could get right now. She knew it would be best to wait and try again when he was sober. At least now she knew that he seemed to want the exact same thing.

Carefully Clara climbed out of bed, trying her best not to wake him up, before she covered John with the blanket. Yet even though he was asleep Clara didn't let that stop her from leaving one last, gentle kiss on his lips.  
“Good night,” she whispered before she took the ladder to climb into her own bed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing comments :) Hope you all enjoyed DW last night because I certainly did. This was my second favourite episode after Oxygen so far.
> 
> And I'm sorry for this:

John couldn't quite say what had woken him up, but a part of him was still fighting to stay asleep. He had had a nice dream about Clara. Lying in his bed. Bodies touching. Lips locked. Her kiss had tasted so sweet, her body had felt so good against his own. No, John wanted to fall back asleep and continue where he had left off, but he knew that it wasn't going to happen. Something else was nagging him, disturbing his peace and John wasn't sure what he noticed first: the clanging of ceramic mugs or the hammering pain in his temples.  
“Kill me,” John groaned and carefully opened his eyes. Damn, it was too bright even though it was still raining heavily.  
“I made coffee,” Clara said a little too cheerfully for his current state.  
Slowly John rose into a sitting position. The van was spinning around him and all he really wanted was to go back to sleep, which was impossible while Clara was bouncing around the place. He didn't fail to notice that she was still wearing his hoodie. “What part of _kill me_ did you not understand?”  
Oh, to go back to his dream where he was free to kiss her and sleep until his hangover had passed.  
“I made coffee and I've got aspirin.” She smiled at him and waved the little package around in the air.  
With a sigh John rose from the bed and tottered in the direction of the sitting area, only now realizing that he was still fully dressed. He let himself fall down in his seat and Clara pushed a coffee mug in his face which he accepted thankfully. The brew was strong and bitter, just exactly what he needed right now.  
“Why did you let me drink so much?” he growled as he sipped his coffee.  
Clara chuckled. There was something in the way she looked at him today that made him a little wary, but he was still too hungover to actually ask about it. He had probably said something embarrassing last night and if that was the case he probably didn't even want to know what it was.  
“Because you're a grown-up and you alone are responsible for your intake of alcohol,” she replied and lifted the coffee mug to her mouth. Last night, in his dream, he had kissed those sweet lips. “Besides, I did stop you.”  
“Right,” he said and once more John became aware of the way Clara was looking at him. It was as if she expected something, but he had no clue what it was. “Sorry, don't actually remember much. I apologize if I said something mean.”  
Clara set her mug down and looked at him, a tiny frown visible on her forehead. Okay, he had probably said something mean or embarrassing.  
“What exactly do you remember?” Clara asked him, her voice surprisingly sharp.  
“Oh, I don't know,” he exhaled sharply. “It's all pretty hazy. But seriously, I'm sorry for anything that I said or did. I was drunk, I didn't mean it.”  
“Okay, fine. Consider it forgotten,” she hissed and reached for her mug again.  
Clara was angry and she hadn't been angry before. John had no idea what to do about it because he didn't even have a clue what could have happened last night.  
“Clara, seriously, I'm so-”  
“Stop apologizing,” Clara cut him off, her tone harsh, “Really, stop. It's fine. You didn't say anything mean.”  
“Then why do I get the feeling that you're mad at me?” John asked. It wasn't just a feeling. He knew that Clara was mad for some reason and she seemed reluctant to share it with him.  
“I'm mad because you keep getting drunk,” she blurted out, “It's irritating and it's worrying me.”  
“Alright,” John replied in defeat, “I didn't know it was bothering you. I'll stop. Okay?”  
“Thank you,” Clara said, but her tone was still cold as ice.  
“So, are we okay?” he enquired carefully, eyeing her closely.  
Clara nodded. “Yeah,” she replied, “What's the plan for today? Obviously it's still raining.”  
John glanced out of the window, realizing that she was right, and by the looks of it the rain wouldn't stop anytime soon.  
“Well, it's useless to go and see the sights since,” he paused, “well, we wouldn't actually see much. How about we try to find a laundrette? Get petrol? Do some shopping?”  
“Chores. Great,” she remarked.  
“Clara-”  
“Okay,” Clara replied and he could tell that the sudden smile on her lips was forced. “Okay, let's get some things done today. One condition.”  
John raised his eyebrows at her.  
“I get to wear your hoodie,” she demanded.  
He chuckled and the sudden movement made his temples ache. He really needed to take the aspirin. “Fine by me.”

* * *

John walked into the petrol station to pay and have another look around the place, trying to find something that might cheer Clara up. She was waiting for him at the laundrette, guarding their clothes while he had left to fill up the petrol tank. For some reason she still seemed mad at him and John hadn't been able to figure out why exactly that was, but somehow he felt there was more to it than what she had told him earlier.  
He stopped in front of a shelf that held a wide selection of cute looking troll toys and John smiled to himself as he picked up one of them. It was a troll figurine with bright blue hair and it was smiling happily at him while its outstretched arms bared its chest. Its little shirt said one word: Sorry. John knew that it probably wasn't enough to make Clara forget about whatever had happened last night, but at the very least it would bring a smile to her face.  
With the troll in his hand John made his way towards the register when something on the newspaper and magazine shelf caught his attention. He didn't speak enough Norwegian to understand the headlines, but the face on some of them was one he was all too familiar with. Lowering his head and pushing his Wayfarers further onto his nose, he walked up to the register, paid for the petrol and the troll and quickly hurried out of the building. 

Clara was sitting right where he had left her, her nose buried in a Jane Austen book that she had brought along and John walked up to her as quietly as possible to surprise her and held the troll right in front of her face.  
Clara lifted her head and smiled at him. “I heard you come in, you know?”  
“Still,” he nodded towards the troll, “I felt like I should apologize. I'm sorry.”  
With a sigh Clara took the troll from him and and turned it around in her hand for a moment. “It's cute,” she concluded after a while, “And there's nothing you need to apologize for.”  
“Really?” John cocked his eyebrows at her. “Cause you seem a bit moody.”  
Clara lowered the troll and looked right at him for a long moment as if she was considering something. “We kissed last night,” she admitted eventually.  
“We did?”  
She nodded. “I took you to bed and you seemed sad. I wanted to comfort you, so I gave you a kiss,” she explained with a shrug.  
Idiot. He was an idiot.  
“Oh,” John uttered for lack of anything else to say, then he carefully raised his gaze to look at her. “What did I do?”  
Clara smiled at him. “You passed out,” she replied, chuckling.  
Double idiot, no, he was a triple idiot. First for getting drunk, second for kissing her and third for passing out while doing it.  
“Okay, that is embarrassing,” John said and quickly averted his eyes again, “I thought I had dreamed that.”  
Still Clara giggled. “How often do you dream about kissing me exactly?”  
“Please, can we stop talking about this?”  
Her only response was to burst into laughter.  
“Seriously,” John growled, “Not funny.”  
“It is. A bit.” She smiled at him. “At first I was a bit mad because you had been so drunk that you forgot about it, but I'm not so mad anymore.”  
John sighed in relief and only now was he beginning to understand what it meant. Clara had kissed him. They had kissed. And that smile on her face left him with hope that she wouldn't mind a repeat.  
“If you're thinking about getting another kiss, I will have to disappoint you,” Clara said sternly, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. “You deserve a little punishment.”

Clara gave him a soft pat on the shoulder before she jumped off the washing machine and bent down to pick up their finished laundry while John could do nothing but stand there and watch. Clara had kissed him. It hadn't been a dream. The thought of that somehow left his entire body tingling with the craving to repeat it even though he knew that he shouldn't. Clara was the wrong woman for that sort of game. She was the sort of woman he could fall for and if he didn't watch his heart, she could be his undoing. But a part of him still wanted to go ahead and do whatever she was willing to do.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comment *hugs*

The rain was coming down mercilessly, pelting down on the car as if it had no intention to stop ever again. Clara exhaled sharply, her breath fogging the windscreen only further. It was no use. Even if they were to drive somewhere, they wouldn't be able to see a thing. Clara was bored out of her mind.  
“Ugh, this is depressing,” she complained and leaned forward to the radio, skipping the song. The next one that came on wasn't better. It was a dull, boring day.  
Next to her John was shifting in his seat, obviously as bored and restless as she was, but his eyes were fixed on the sight ahead – which wasn't much of a sight at all unless one was interested in watching the raindrops. Clara smiled at the sight of him. The rainy weather seemed to do something to his hair and it looked even wilder than it usually did, his silver curls sticking out in every possible direction. It looked so soft that Clara started to wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.  
“What are you thinking?” Clara asked him after a while.  
“That I hate this weather,” John growled in response, but he still didn't look at her. In fact, now that Clara came to think about it, he had sort of avoided her gaze all day yesterday after she had told him about the kiss, which she found a little odd. John couldn't even remember how many women he had slept with, surely the number of those he had kissed was even greater. It shouldn't be a big deal and yet for some reason it seemed to be. But the truth was that Clara wanted to do it again.  
The kiss had roused something in her, something she had only vaguely been aware of before and that was her attraction towards him. John was handsome. Distinct features, lovely hair, he was tall and lean and he had a really, really nice looking chest. She wanted to kiss him again and she wanted more than just that, even if she was one in a hundred. Maybe that was exactly what she needed right now. After Danny Clara had been too broken to even consider starting something, but it didn't matter here, it didn't matter with John. They were far, far away from reality and maybe it was time for a rebound.  
“So,” Clara began, exhaling sharply, “what do you think we should do today? I mean, besides sit here and stare at the rain? I have to admit it's getting kinda boring.”  
John blew the air out between his teeth. “I have no idea what we could do. I mean, I suppose we could stop by a petrol station and buy a card game, but I'm not sure how much more interesting that would be.”  
“Or-” She broke off, unsure whether she should actually suggest it. Clara had never been shy about it, but she had also never been so blatant.  
“Or what?” John enquired, “I'm open to suggestions.”  
“We could fuck,” Clara blurted out before she could think better of it and swiftly lowered her gaze to her feet. She couldn't look at John's reaction. Not immediately. She hadn't been nervous saying it, but now that the words had come out of her mouth she suddenly felt utterly anxious to the point that her hands were beginning to tremble. Oh God, she had just suggested to have sex to a man she had barely known for a week.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw that John turned his head in her direction and slowly but surely she lifted her head to look back at him. He seemed in shock more than anything.  
“Uhm,” John stammered, obviously as nervous as she felt. “That was a joke, right? You were messing with me?”  
Clara shook her head.  
“Okay,” he whispered, “I, uhm, I did not expect that. Congratulations. You, erm, you've surprised me. But you're not actually serious, right?”  
John looked at her as if he still didn't quite believe it.  
“No, I, uhm, I meant it,” she admitted sheepishly. “I want it. Unless you don't.”  
His mouth fell open and for a moment he seemed lost for words. Clara, however, knew his answer. She knew from the way he had reacted to her kiss, so she decided to go ahead and lead the way.  
Clara rose to her feet and held out her hand to him. “I want you,” she admitted, “I don't want it to be a big deal and I think you're the type for that. So what do you say? Just you and me, having fun?”  
When John finally reached for her hand and let her pull him to his feet, Clara thought that the touch of his hand was burning on her skin, prickling with the promise of what they were about to do. Wordlessly they walked into the back of the van and stopped in front of the bunk beds where she turned around to look at him and John's hands landed on her hips, keeping her right where she was. His expression had changed and for some reason she now seemed a lot more nervous than he was. Maybe she had really just taken him by surprise.  
“Do you have protection?” Clara suddenly asked. She hadn't thought about this earlier. “Cause I don't wanna get worked up just to-”  
“I do,” John confirmed with a smile, “in my bag.”  
All of a sudden Clara felt like an utterly nervous wreck. It was real and it was about to happen because she had simply suggested it.  
“Could you do me a favour?” he asked her, that smile still on his face as he raised her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. All she could do was nod. “Stop being bossy for a moment. I know what I'm doing.”  
Clara inhaled deeply and nodded once again, but still her body wouldn't stop trembling. John was so close and she knew what was about to happen. He was the first man after Danny and even though it wouldn't be anything serious, it was still a big step.

John bent down slowly and Clara craned her neck until their lips finally touched again and it was a lot gentler than she had expected. His hands cupped her cheeks, carefully pulling her closer until she parted her lips to let him in. His kiss tasted of coffee and Clara savoured every second that it lasted, almost cursing him when he pulled away.  
“I've been thinking about this for days,” John confessed, chuckling softly. “I didn't think you'd want the same thing.”  
He brushed the hair out of her face, his eyes never leaving her face. It was as if was completely mesmerized by her. One of his hands trailed down her body, hardly touching her at all and still the feeling of it was almost overwhelming and she wanted more of it. Then it came to rest on the small of her back as he carefully pulled her up against his body. Her skin was tingling all over and even though he hadn't actually touched her Clara could already feel the heat of arousal between her legs. It was as if his presence alone was enough to turn her on and a part of her thought that was exactly what he had intended. John really knew what he was doing.  
“Then go ahead,” Clara prompted him, smiling. “What are you waiting for?”  
John smiled back at her, but if she had expected him to kiss her again, she had been wrong. Instead his continued to caress her cheek with his fingertips that were slowly trailing down along her neck. Her skin started to ripple in goosebumps.  
“I've thought about kissing you,” he said in a low, husky voice as his fingertips ghosted over her neck. “Thought about sucking your neck.”  
Clara drew in a sharp breath. “Go on,” she breathed. “Do it.”  
Instead John lowered his hand between them and somehow it founds its way beneath her shirt and she giggled when his thumb circled her belly button.  
“You really are beautiful, Clara,” John said sincerely.  
Finally he lowered his mouth to her neck, the stubble of his unshaven chin scratching along her delicate skin before she felt his lips carefully nibble at her throat. The sensation of it instantly shot through her body, making her sex itch with desire for him and causing her to press herself a little harder against his crotch. At the same time his hand wandered up beneath her shirt, cupping her breast and squeezing softly. Clara gasped.  
“Do you always take it this slow?” she found herself asking in impatience. She just wanted to feel more of him. His fingers. His tongue. Anything. Right now she just needed to be touched.  
“Why?” John breathed into her ear. “Do you have somewhere you need to be? Cause I've got all day.”  
When John nipped at her earlobe Clara craned her neck a little further, allowing him full access, praying that he would kiss her throat, touch her, anything but this slow torture. Then she decided to take matters into her own hand.  
Clara felt between them and soon found the shape of his erection underneath his trousers. Her juices were beginning to pool between her thighs as she estimated the size of him with her hand. John uttered a low moan when she gave him a soft squeeze and finally their mouths clashed once again, more desperately this time and Clara suddenly found it hard to breathe. Still she needed him to touch her because the fire that he had started inside of her was beginning to become a little too much to bear.  
Finally his hand wandered downwards and slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt and right into her knickers. Clara let out a gasp when one of his fingers slid between her folds where she was already wet and she pushed herself a little harder against him. Her own hands anchored behind his head, pulling him deeper into his kiss while his fingers were beginning to tend to her arousal. Yet the way he his finger rubbed her clit didn't do much except to tease her a little more, working her up until she sucked hard on his bottom lip. Clara started to grind against his hand, desperate for him, but all it did was to fuel her arousal.  
“I want you,” she breathed upon his lips, her words coming out almost as moan.  
“Patience,” John whispered into her ear while his finger dug inside of her and a moan escaped her mouth. “I want you, too. I want to be inside you.”  
Another moan came over her lips as he increased his speed, doing his best to work her up without actually giving her enough to satisfy her. “Do it,” she almost begged him. “Please.” God, she really wasn't the beginning type, but John really knew how to drive her to that point of despair.

All of a sudden his hand was gone and Clara opened her eyes to see him already undo his belt. It was all the invitation she needed to strip out of her clothes and neither of them stopped before their clothes were nothing put a pile on the floor and they fell backwards onto his bed. She watched as John rummaged through his bag and only moments later produced a condom. Right now Clara was too impatient to wait for him and reached for the condom to unwrap it herself while she grinned at him. John smiled back, his eyes dark in arousal and anticipation.  
Clara leaned over him and lowered her gaze to erection. Oh yes, they really had all day and Clara was determined to use it as best as she could. He was hard and heavy in her hand as she pushed the condom over his member and John closed his eyes at the sensation and his head sank deeper into the pillow. This time he wouldn't fall asleep.  
“Nice,” she remarked while she gave him a couple of strokes, teasing him until he was rock solid and rocking into her palm. “Do you know how to use it?”  
His eyes instantly flew open, a sort of hurt look on his face as he sat up. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”  
“Absolutely.”  
Clara had barely managed to finish her sentence when John flipped them both over and landed right on top of her, his member already brushing her sex in the sweetest and most frustrating ways. She spread her legs a little further, inviting him in when she finally felt him slide into her. He was careful at first, slow, giving her time to adjust to his size and Clara gasped when he had fully buried himself inside of her. He felt so good, so unlike anything she had ever felt before and Clara knew that no matter how this would end, she would never regret having suggested this to him.  
When John started to move, slowly picking up pace, Clara hooked her arms around his back and countered his movements with her hips. There was no need for her to take control right now, no need to be the boss because John really knew exactly what he was doing.  
Yet somehow she knew that he was still holding back, that he was still trying hard to please her by going slow when there was absolutely no need. Clara was close, he had successfully worked her up and she really, really just wanted him to take her. She hooked her leg around him, trying to guide him, trying to get him to speed up his rhythm as he thrust into her and Clara pressed her lips together. She had never been noisy during sex, but right now she was doing her best not to cry out as John continued to hit her sweet spot over and over again, each time bringing her a little closer.  
“You okay?” John panted as he continued to rock into her and Clara opened her eyes to see that he was watching her. He was watching, making sure that she was enjoying herself and, by God, she was.  
“Mh-mh,” she whimpered as he drove into her again, the feeling of it almost making her lose her mind. She wanted so much to let go.  
“Cause you're a bit quiet,” he remarked, following by a groan when one of his thrusts his particular deep.  
“Not a screamer,” she panted heavily, but apparently John took it more as a challenge than anything else as he was increasing his speed a little further and Clara started clawing onto his back.  
Clara's head sank deeper into the pillows as he continued to plunge into her, his thrusts feeling sweeter and with every time as he filled her up so completely that she thought she might burst if she didn't come anytime soon. He had found the right spot, the right angle and he seemed to know it because he just kept on going until Clara thought she couldn't take it anymore.  
“Yes,” she whimpered, unable to keep quiet any longer. She would do anything just so he didn't stop. “Right there.”  
Clara cried out when her orgasm washed over her, moaning and panting when the sensation came over her in ripples and suddenly, at the perfect moment, John's movements ceased and remained still inside of her while the last waves of her orgasm abated slowly and he released himself with a long, satisfied groan.  
When he collapsed next to her, both their breathing ragged and heavy, Clara thought that nothing what came after could possibly beat this. This was the best sex of her life.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *big group hug*  
> Thank you guys so much for the lovely, lovely comments :) I'm glad you've enjoyed the chapter as much as John and Clara :D

When John woke up in the morning he was glad to see that had rain had finally stopped and the sun was shining into the van through a small gap in the curtains. He shifted in bed carefully, trying his best not to wake Clara who had fallen asleep in his arms some time during the night. A smile curled up his lips when he looked at her peaceful face, but it wasn't an entirely happy one. He had vowed not to flirt with her and yet here she was, lying in his arms, still completely naked after they had spent the rest of the day in bed. Yet somehow Clara had done a very good job at making him forget all about his resolutions and he had thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.  
But what would happen now? It was painfully obvious that Clara didn't want them to be anything serious and even if she did want that, John didn't see how that would be possible. Not with the kind of life he was leading outside their little holiday. Because that was what this really was. A holiday. John was very good at ignoring the truth, but at some point he would have to go back, whether he wanted to or not. And sadly, he couldn't take Clara with him.  
He turned his head towards the angel in his arms and smiled at her. So what if their little adventure would end some day? That didn't mean he couldn't use the time that they had as best as he could. John bent down and placed a long, soft kiss on her forehead, deciding to finally wake her up before his thoughts made him broody.  
“Good morning,” he whispered gently, tightening his grip around Clara while she opened her eyes and blinked at him.  
A smile spread over her face. “Mornin',” Clara mumbled sweetly, followed by some murmuring noises while she stretched her arms. “What time is it?”  
“Not sure, but the sun's up,” John replied and his hand found its way to her hair. It was so soft to the touch and utterly messy after last night.  
“Sun is good news. Very good,” she concluded. “Means we can actually leave the van.”  
“Ouch,” he chuckled, putting on a pretend hurt expression. “There are nicer ways to tell me you didn't have fun.”  
“Oh, stop it. You know I did.” Clara rolled her eyes before she leaned over to place a swift kiss on his lips. “And I'm fairly certain your tongue has magic powers.”  
Without a warning John leaned across the bed and climbed on top of her, pressing his lips on hers in a long, breathtaking kiss. When he pulled away John raised his eyebrows at her in mock doubt. “Just my tongue?”  
Clara giggled. “Mh, your fingers weren't bad either. Or the rest of you.”  
He kissed her again, but this time it was merely a short peck.  
“For the record, your tongue wasn't too shabby either, you little fiend.”  
John was surprised when Clara reached behind his head and pulled him down to meet her lips once more, but he wasn't going to fight her about that. No, quite the contrary. He kissed her eagerly and even though he hadn't thought it possible after yesterday his cock was already stirring between his legs, craving to dive back into her once again.  
“Oh no.” Clara smiled as she gently pushed him away before she scrambled into a sitting position. “Today we will use the weather and look at stuff.”  
“Stuff?” John chuckled.  
“Well, you know. Norwegian stuff. Travel stuff.”  
Oh, you mean _stuff_ ,” he mocked her jokingly, “Well, of course. You should have said so.”  
Clara giggled in response and John couldn't help but love how silly she was when she was happy because it made him happy in return. If only he could take her home after all of this was over. Clara's smile seemed brighter than the sun this morning, making all his other worries seem so small. If only. . .  
Suddenly she reached for his hand and hooked her fingers around his own while she granted him an impish look. “Wouldn't mind another rainy day though,” she remarked.  
“No,” John agreed thoughtfully. Oh yes, how lovely that would be. “Me neither.”

Clara jumped up from the bed without a warning and dashed towards the bathroom with a speed he hadn't expected of her.  
“I get to shower first,” she exclaimed happily and vanished into the tiny cubicle that unfortunately was too small for two people. Otherwise John would have joined her without hesitation. Then she stuck her head through the door once again. “Make coffee in the meantime?” she asked with a smile.  
“And toast,” John confirmed before the door closed behind her. Why did he have to lead such a complicated, messed-up life where there would be no space for Clara?

* * *

Clara was lost for words when John parked the motorhome near a lake and without further warning she opened the door and jumped outside, stepping closer to the lake because she couldn't believe that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. It seemed as if she was in for a new astonishing sight every day in this country and if Clara had believed in an almighty power, she thought that this must have been the spot the Gods had kissed when they had created the world. The lake in front of her eyes was the brightest turquoise she had ever seen in her entire life and it was almost as if all the colours in this part of the earth were brighter than elsewhere. The sky, the grass, the waters. It was magnificent. Clara spotted a small flock of sheep roaming the fields next to a lonely, little, red house on the other side of of the lake.  
“Imagine living here,” John said and Clara turned her head to look at him. She hadn't even noticed that he had followed her outside.  
“Must be nice,” she remarked, her eyes back on the wooden house. Maybe a little lonely, maybe one started to curse it after running out of milk on a Friday evening the third week in a row, but right now it looked like heaven to her.  
“Paradise,” John added. “Imagine it. No one who knows you. No one who bothers you or wants something from you. You can turn up the music as loud as you want.”  
“Sheep for company,” Clara joked. “If you're into that.”  
“I'm Scottish, of course I'm into that. Nothing better than a sheep to keep you warm at night.” He chuckled right before Clara felt him place his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against his chest.  
“That's disgusting,” she laughed. “Please stop.”  
“You're just jealous. Admit it.”  
Clara sighed and leaned back into his embrace, for a moment considering what he had said earlier. She used to love London, the people, the bustle, but after Danny everything had felt oppressing and wrong, almost claustrophobic. The small town in Dorset had come as a relief, especially because no one had known her or known about her past. But it was nothing compared to this.  
“I wish we could stay here, exactly like this, forever.”  
“We?” she heard John ask.  
“You know, I've only just met you. Everything is new and exciting. It feels good. I want to freeze this exact moment before it has a chance to pass,” Clara explained. “I don't know if that makes sense.”  
John hesitated for a moment and all Clara could hear was his breathing. “It does. But aren't you gonna be missed?”  
She gave a soft shrug. “I don't care,” Clara replied and turned around in his embrace, looking at him intently. “Are you gonna be missed?”  
John huffed. “I'm sure they're looking for me as we speak,” he said and all of a sudden a smile spread across his face. “They can look for a while longer. Everyone deserves a holiday.”

He released her from his embrace and took a few steps back, still smiling at her. Clara thought that he tried his best to appear as if he didn't have a care in the world, but somehow she could tell that all of it was nothing but a show and she knew why. He had spoken of his friends and she knew that they were waiting for him at home – and that he was avoiding them for whatever reason. John was stalling, but Clara didn't exactly mind because she would do about anything to run away from her own worries for a while longer.  
All those feelings she had thought she would have – the feeling of not being ready, the guilt, the fright. Clara didn't feel any of these things. She didn't feel guilty because of Danny, she didn't feel scared to be with John because she knew it wouldn't last. It was all just for the moment and Clara was determined to live it as fully as possible because at some point she would have to go back to her real, claustrophobic, oppressing life.  
“Shall we go on? Drive north?” John asked her. “The Arctic circle is waiting.”  
Clara grinned at him in response. “Ready when you are.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, thank you guys so much for the sweet comments! You're the best <3  
> But isn't it going suspiciously well for them?

Clara grabbed a bag of crisps from the shelf and chuckled at the writing on it. Norwegian seemed like a funny language to learn because even though she didn't speak it, some words seemed vaguely familiar in a very, very odd spelling. Words like akvarium made the meaning pretty clear and the way they were written reminded her of her former students. Maybe they had never been wrong in their spelling, maybe they had just always written their test in Norwegian.  
She turned around and spotted John in front of the shelf of sweets, obviously deep in contemplation over which kind of chocolate to get. Not that the petrol station had a lot to offer.  
“What are you looking for?” Clara asked him when she stopped next to John. The strawberry chocolate looked amazing and she thought that if he chose it, she would definitely steal some of it.  
“Something sweet,” he replied, his eyes still fixed on the shelf, “not sure what.”  
Clara giggled and pushed herself into his field of vision, grinning at him. “How about me?”  
A smile spread over John's face as he laid his hand on the small of her back and pulled her a little closer. “I'll definitely have you for desert,” he replied before he bent down and kissed her on the lips. “As well as the strawberry chocolate.”  
She still chuckled when John reached past her to grab the chocolate bar and headed towards the register. Everything seemed so easy with him, so completely without pressure and Clara couldn't help but love it. All this time she had grieved for Danny, avoided her friends' questions about when she would start dating again because she didn't think she would ever be ready. But here she was, with a man almost twice her age, enjoying herself because she was fully aware that he posed no danger at all. There was no danger of commitment, no danger or fear or losing him because she would never have him in the first place. She was just one out of many for him and that was exactly what she wanted to be. It was exactly the sort of freedom she wanted.  
“Why do you always wear your sunglasses indoors?” Clara asked him once she had caught up with him on the way to the register. “I mean, it's not exactly bright in here.”  
“It's bright enough,” John remarked in reply as he continued his stride.  
“Mh, not really,” she hummed. “It doesn't make you look cool, if that's what you think.”  
“I don't think that. I'm just lazy,” he explained. “Besides, these sunglasses were expensive. Would be careless to just slip them into your pocket.”  
“Alright,” Clara sighed when they had reached the register. She handed over the bag of crisps, but soon realized that the cashier wasn't paying any attention to her at all.  
Instead the woman's eyes were fixed on John as if Clara was made out of nothing but air. It was strange, the way she looked at him, as if she was somehow in awe of him. Even though John didn't seem to notice it at all and proceeded to pay as if nothing had ever happened, Clara couldn't help but feel a little. . . possessive. John was an attractive man and he was here with her and she was determined to show the cashier just exactly that.  
Clara waited patiently until John had paid before she reached for his hand and pulled him down for a long kiss. He seemed surprised at first, but it didn't take him long to yield to her before she pulled away. A quick glance at the cashier confirmed her suspicion that the woman was still staring at them. It didn't matter. Clara had proven that he she didn't stand a chance.

They made they way back to the motorhome, Clara skipping ahead, feeling excited about the rest of their journey.  
“So, where to next?” she asked him. “Wanna look at the city?”  
They had stopped at a petrol station outside of Trondheim, but Clara was curious what the real city looked like. The Norwegian architecture was interesting and so different from that in the UK. She wanted to see more.  
Yet John wrinkled his nose. “I'm not really the city type. I mean, we've got another eight hours until we reach the Arctic circle. We should just drive on.”  
“Why are you in such a hurry now? We can look at the city and then go to the Arctic circle,” Clara suggested, not really knowing why he was so reluctant to stay.  
“Really, Clara, I don't like cities so much. I have enough of that at home. I'd just like to not meet people.”  
She frowned at him, trying to give him the best pout she had to offer.  
“That's not fair,” John protested, raising his index finger at her. “You can't use the eyes on me.”  
“Please?” she begged him, chuckling, knowing that his resistance was crumbling. “We can stay in the car and just drive through.”  
Clara watched as he rolled his eyes, growling when he finally gave in and Clara made a mental note to thank him later tonight.

* * *

John had no idea how it had come to this. One moment they had been in the car, driving through Trondheim, the next she was holding his hand and dragging him straight into a bar. He hadn't agreed to this. He really, really hadn't.  
“Two pints!” Clara shouted at the barman over the music. John had to admit that what they played in here wasn't half bad.  
“A pint and a coke,” John corrected her and turned towards Clara, who eyed him in confusion. “What?”  
She chuckled in response. “Didn't think I'd see the day you turn down a drink.”  
“Well, first of all, this isn't the UK. You have no idea what the Norwegians think beer is. Second, I'm the driver,” he explained.  
“And third?”  
John scoffed. “What makes you think there's a third reason?”  
The barman shoved two glasses in their direction and John paid him, watching as Clara had a sip. “It's good,” she confirmed. “So what's the third?”  
When Clara smiled at him, John couldn't help but laugh at the moustache of beer foam over her lip and he bent forward to kiss her, tasting the beer on her lips.  
Clara chuckled when he pulled away. “What is the third?” she enquired again. “Come on, I know there is a third.”  
He cleared his throat and awkwardly sipped his coke, mumbling his response, but still Clara heard that he wasn't drinking because she had asked him not to. The smile faded from her lips while she set her glass down and approached him, pulling him down and kissing him in earnest now. The way her lips felt on his own made his knees weak without the help of alcohol. It had been years since a woman had had that effect on him.  
“Do you, uhm,” he stammered when their lips parted, “do you wanna dance?”  
“I'd love to,” Clara agreed, grinning broadly at him before she reached for his hand again and led him to the dance floor right as a new song started.

“Uh, I like that song,” Clara remarked when they started to dance. “Who's it by? I never knew the artist.”  
“Uhm, I don't know,” he lied because Clara would never believe him if he told her the truth, but the fact was that the song was way too familiar to his ears. John banned the thoughts about it from his head and instead decided to focus on the dance, focus on how light Clara was in his arms as he twirled her around while she laughed and John couldn't help but laugh with her. He just loved the sound she made when she did.  
John pulled her closer until their bodies touched, moving to the music through the other dancing couples and if they looked at them, he didn't notice it, he didn't care.  
“You're quite a good dancer,” she said after a while. “Hadn't expected that after you refused to dance with me the other day.”  
John twirled her around once more before quickly pulling her back because not feeling Clara against him right now was just not an option. He would have loved to drag her back to the van right at this moment, take of all their clothes and make love to her until they both fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Clara had successfully put a spell on him and he just knew that their time together would run out eventually. He wanted to use every single second.  
“I said I don't dance,” John told her, “I never said I couldn't.”  
When the song ended they stayed for another and then another and John couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed dancing so much. If he had a choice he would stay like this forever, moving slowly with Clara in his arms.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments *hugs*

Clara pinned him against the wall with the weight of her body which, admittedly, wasn't that heavy, but John had no strength to resists her when she kissed him hungrily, leaving him with little doubt as to what her intentions for the night were.  
“Clara,” he gasped when their lips parted and his voice came out hoarse and husky, “I think we should get back to the van.”  
“Why?” she asked innocently as she started grinding against his body. This wasn't helping. Quite the contrary. John was hard already and soon he would find it impossible to say no to her.  
He chuckled. “Cause you've been winding me up a little bit. Quite a lot actually,” he breathed and suddenly Clara reached between them and cupped him in her hand. John let out a low moan. “See, this is the winding up I was talking about.”  
Clara began to massage him through the fabric of his trousers and John found himself rocking into her palm as his blood rushed south, leaving him entirely at her mercy.  
“Shush,” she hushed him softly as she placed a finger on his lips. Then Clara granted him a smile. “Can't let you walk all the way to the van like that. You would scare the children.”  
“It's past midn-”  
“Shush,” she repeated.  
John swallowed hard. They were in a quiet back street and no one had crossed their path on the way out, yet somehow he doubted that the bins would provide them with a good enough hiding place in case someone heard them. It was still not entirely dark.  
Then, without a warning, Clara sank down on her knees in the middle of the street and John's mind went blank. She couldn't be serious.  
“You just have to be quiet,” she told him sweetly as her hand unzipped his trousers and finally John found his voice again.  
“There's a time and place-” The words died out in his throat when she wrapped her hand around his member, his naked skin tingling at the sensation as her mouth came closer. He knew he should protest, but he was so weak when it came to Clara.  
When she placed her lips around the tip of his erection and sucked him in slowly, John uttered a guttural sound when he found himself engulfed by the heat of her mouth. His hands wandered to her head, one of them curled around her hair, the other stroked her sweet face as she tended to his arousal. How could it be that he had chosen the perfect woman to travel with him completely on a whim? And she really was perfect in every respect.  
The heat and wetness of her mouth were so enticing that John leaned his head back against the wall as he decided to just let it happen, to just let Clara do whatever the hell she liked with him because as long as she didn't stop, as long as he was inside her, John didn't care. Everything she did was perfect and John found himself drifting off as he slowly rocked into her. If she kept going he was sure she could even make him forget his own name.  
“Mhhh,” he hummed, “this is good.”  
In response Clara tightened her lips around him, sending a jolt of pleasure right through his abdomen. “Very good,” he moaned hoarsely. “God, you're perfect.”  
His nails were beginning to dig deeper into her scalp, massaging her while she increased her speed and his legs were beginning to feel a little wobbly. He wanted her so, so much that it was becoming harder to hold back with every passing moment.  
When she let him glide out of her mouth the absence of her touch was almost painful and John was desperate to drive back inside her. He lowered his head to look at her as she circled the tip of his cock with her tongue, but she seemed so focused on what she was doing that she never noticed him watch. Gently he caressed her cheek with his hand.  
“Clara,” he whispered, his voice hardly audible, and finally her eyes looked up. John vowed to himself that he would never forget this sight for the rest of his life.  
She sucked him back into her mouth and John was only too ready to thrust his hips up and meet her movements, countering them and to his surprise he found no resistance. Clara let him guide her head around his cock and he plunged into her eagerly, the little sounds of pleasure she made as he did shooting straight to his core. Slowly John was beginning to lose control as his arousal grew too much to take. The sweet pleasure of her lips around him, the moans that came out of her mouth that told him she was enjoying it, it drove him right to the edge. As Clara tightened her grip around him and John thrust into her once more he felt his orgasm come over him like a shockwave and his movements stilled in an instant while he released himself inside her mouth. Clara swallowed around him and John uttered a single, low sound of pleasure, unable to keep quiet any longer.

He was panting and only slowly opening his eyes when Clara stood up and tucked his member that was still throbbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm back into his trousers. John gulped.  
At this exact moment the door to the bar opened and a group of people walked out, spotting them half hidden behind the bins. Clara giggled when they both realized that they probably knew exactly what had been going on.  
“Naughty,” John growled, but he couldn't exactly be mad at Clara. Not after this.  
“Back to the van?” she asked, giving him her sweetest smile, and John had no idea how she could look so innocent after what had happened in the past ten minutes.  
He could only nod in response while Clara took his hand and started to lead him back to the motorhome.

* * *

Clara felt knackered when she had changed into her pyjamas and she had every right to be. They had been up since 8 and by now it was well past midnight of this long and eventful day. All she really wanted was to sink into her pillows and close her eyes and as she stepped out of the bathroom she saw that John had obviously had the same thoughts. He was already in bed with the duvet pulled up to his chin.  
“Good night,” Clara told him with a smile and was about to climb up the ladder to her bed when John suddenly sat up.  
“Hey, where do you think you're going?”  
“Uhm.” Clara stopped in her tracks. “To bed?”  
In response John lifted the duvet and for a moment Clara was about to tell him that she was way too tired for further action tonight when she saw the look on his face and realized that sex was probably the last thing on his mind right now. He looked as tired as she felt.  
Clara let go of the ladder and walked up to his bed instead, climbing in next to him before John covered them both with the duvet and wrapped his arm around her. Together they sank down on the mattress, cuddled up on a tight embrace. A smile spread across Clara's face when she noticed how warm and comfortable it was and how long it had been since she had fallen asleep with someone else like that. It was almost perfect.  
“Good night,” she whispered again, but there was no response. John had fallen asleep on the spot.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments *hugs*  
> Oh, it looks like the plot is thickening. What could John be running from?

John woke up and instantly noticed that his bed felt a lot more comfortable than it usually had and soon he noticed just what or who the reason for that was. Clara was sleeping in his arms again and somehow, in his drowsy state, John thought it was the best thing in the entire world. Clara was smart and she was funny and she was anything but afraid to tell him exactly what she thought of him. It had been a very, very long time since he had met a woman that had done something other than flatter him. When Clara did it John knew that it was actually sincere.  
He leaned forward and nuzzled his face in her hair, her lovely hair that smelled of girly shampoo. She was perfect and John was on his best way to really falling in love with her. The thought of it made him sad because the odds were so against them. But what if there was just a tiny bit of hope?  
“Good morning,” she mumbled sleepily and John could hear her smile before she had actually turned around in his embrace an looked at him. On top of everything else Clara was beautiful.  
“Good morning, gorgeous,” John replied before he bent forward and left a soft kiss on her lips.  
“Gorgeous?” Clara chuckled. “Wow, you're in a good mood today.”  
“Just telling the truth. How do you feel about breakfast?”  
“Totally in favour,” she agreed and struggled into a sitting position. “I make the coffee, you make the toast?”  
John pouted at her. “I was thinking you make the coffee and toast and I'll watch from a safe distance like, uhm, right here?”  
“Lazy,” Clara remarked before she bent down and pecked him on the lips. “Just so you know, it's your turn tomorrow.”  
“Deal.” John sank back into the pillows and watched while Clara climbed out of bed and walked towards the small kitchen, all the while wondering what would happen if he took her back home, what would happen if he told her the truth. Would she still want to travel with him? Would she leave? No, John decided that it wasn't worth the risk. At least not yet.

“Uh-oh,” Clara uttered as she looked into the small cabinet. “Bad news. We're totally out of coffee.”  
“Check the other cabinet. I'm pretty sure I bought some,” he told her.  
“We went shopping together. We didn't buy any,” she replied and went through all the other cupboards, apparently without success. “Nope, we're out.”  
With a sigh John rose from the bed a well. “Well, I suppose we'll find a café or something. They might even serve something other than dry toast.”  
“That's a nice thou-” Clara's sentence was cut short when John bent down and pecked her on the lips before he darted in the direction of the bathroom.  
“I get to shower first!”  
“Hey!” he heard Clara protest, but he had already closed the door behind him.

* * *

“I'll have a large coffee, the ham and eggs and a chocolate muffin, please,” John told the waitress at the café once he had put the menu down. She scribbled it down on her small notepad.  
“I'll also have a large coffee and the sweet breakfast,” Clara added with a smile.  
John swiftly lowered his gaze again, wondering if he should have gone with the blueberry muffin instead. Or both. He was really hungry. When the waitress had left, Clara nudged him softly.  
“That woman was totally checking you out,” she remarked.  
John raised his head to look at her. “What woman?”  
“The waitress. Couldn't keep her eyes off you.”  
In response John grinned at her because all of a sudden he got the distinct feeling that Clara was a little bit jealous and he liked the fact that she was. It meant that she at least felt something for him. “Well, I can't help being attractive, can I?”  
She chuckled. “I think she was judging you for wearing your sunglasses indoors, not admiring your looks. Seriously, take them off.”  
“The sun is shining,” he argued.  
“Not in here,” Clara replied and reached out to take the sunglasses off his face before she folded them up and placed them neatly on the table.  
The waitress returned with two mugs of coffee, but this time John noticed that she was looking at him and it wasn't because of the sunglasses. He would have loved to put them back on his face, but he doubted that Clara would let him.  
“Okay, let's see what's new,” Clara sighed and reached for one of the newspapers that were laid out for the customers to read.  
While she skimmed through the Norwegian paper John leaned back in his seat, sipping his coffee, trying to ignore his growling stomach. It was about time the waitress came back with their food.  
“Oh my God,” Clara suddenly uttered.  
“What's wrong?” John frowned at her.  
In reply Clara opened the newspaper a little further to let him have a look as well and John's eyes fell on a picture of a coast in Dorset that seemed strangely familiar. In the past few days John had almost forgotten about the events that had led him here, the events that had brought him and Clara together, but as he looked at the photograph John suddenly felt reminded of everything that had happened and his heart sank into his boots. He wasn't ready for Clara to find out the truth.  
“That's my town,” she blurted out, “that's definitely my town.”  
“Well, what does it say?” John asked her nervously, trying his best not to show how terrified he was.  
“I don't know. I can't read it,” she replied. “Maybe we could ask the waitress to translate it.”  
“It's not important,” he tried to tell her, but Clara was already lost into the article.  
“I think someone died on that beach.”  
John knew that he had to distract her and he had to do it quickly before the waitress returned and Clara could ask her about it. She couldn't read what was in that article. He had to think of something and he had to do it now.

Swiftly he reached for his sunglasses and put them back on his nose, grinning broadly at Clara. The smile must look so fake on him right now, but if Clara noticed, she didn't show it. Instead she glowered at him and John had a chance to pull the newspaper away from her without drawing further attention to it.  
“Seriously, they suit you, but wearing your sunglasses indoors does not make you look cool,” she remarked. “It only makes you look like an idiot.”  
“I am an idiot,” John argued, still grinning broadly. By the looks of it he had successfully diverted the subject.  
“Yes,” Clara agreed with a sigh,”you are. A lovable idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.”  
She took the glasses off his nose once more and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips right as the waitress appeared with their breakfast.  
To his relief John noticed that Clara instantly turned her attention towards the food and he was sure that he would think of a way to distract her again should the topic of the newspaper article ever come up again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments! You are the best! And I'm loving all the theories I get about who died on the beach (either on here on in PMs) because one of those was already correct :D But we'll get to that soon-ish.
> 
> First. . . more kissing

“It looks-” Clara broke off, trying to find a word for the building in front of them, but all she could think was that the Arctic circle centre didn't look like she would have expected, “strange.”  
“Well-”  
“It also looks closed,” she said with a shrug.  
“Sorry about that,” John mumbled. “We took a bit longer than I would have expected.”  
He turned around and gave her an apologetic smile while Clara grinned at him in return. She didn't mind in the least because they had all the time in the world. The sun was still up, as John had told her it would be if they went farther north, and Clara had a look at her surroundings. The Arctic circle station, the wooden monument, and a field filled with hundreds of cairns.  
“Oh, what are those for?” she asked excitedly.  
“What? The cairns?”  
Clara nodded.  
“Uhm, I'm not entirely sure. The tourists build them, either to protect them from the trolls or so the trolls with protect them. It was one or the other, I think. Hey, where are you going?” John asked her when she went to open the door of the van.  
Clara looked at him in confusion. “I'm gonna build a cairn, of course,” she replied. “Bring your camera.”

Clara stepped out of the vehicle and started to walk towards the field covered in cairn of various shapes and sizes while she tried to estimate just how many people had been here to build them. She really couldn't say. The clicking of the camera was audible behind her as Clara went to pick up a few stones on her way to the field, gathering what she thought they needed to build at least a small one. When she had reached the field Clara started placing the stones on top of each other, but just when she had finished her cairn the stone on the top came tumbling down, taking the others with it.  
“Damn,” she cursed.  
John laughed behind her before he bent down to help her. “I really hope you're not an architect,” he chuckled as he placed the stones back on a neat heap.  
“Luckily I'm not,” Clara replied and watched John's skilled hands put up the cairn in a matter of seconds. She wasn't surprised when it actually held. He seemed to have a talent for most things.  
“What is your job by the way? I don't think you've ever mentioned,” John said absent-mindedly, keeping his eyes fixed on their cairn and Clara knew exactly why that was. They had agreed not to talk about the past and as far as Clara could tell their pact was still standing. John shouldn't ask.  
“You've met me in a diner,” Clara remarked.  
Finally he looked up at her and there was something thoughtful in his expression, as if he was trying to figure her out. “I don't believe you've been a waitress forever. You don't really seem the type.”  
With a sigh Clara nodded eventually. “I used to be a teacher,” she said. “But I quit my job to travel the world. I'll go back one day, but not now. I'm not done yet.”  
To her surprise John smiled at her. “Now _that_ seems more like your thing,” John replied and rose back to his feet. When he held out his hand to her Clara followed his example. “Are you feeling rebellious?”  
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why?”  
He chuckled. “Cause I can see a sign that tells us not to build cairns over there and I can see a lot of stones on the way.”  
Clara grinned at him in reply. “So rebellious.”  
They both skipped across the field, giggling and gathering stones on their way to the sign that showed a crossed out cairn before they dropped them right next to the sign. John immediately set out to build it while Clara reached for his camera and took photos of him doing it as proof of how _rebellious_ they were.  
“Are you collecting your blackmail material?” John asked her.  
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “Those photos are going straight to the police and they'll lock you up for illegal cairn building. Criminal mastermind.”  
Still smiling, John rose to his feet, admiring his work. Then suddenly Clara thought of something.  
“Hey, let's take a selfie,” she suggested hopefully and approached him before he had a chance to run away. “In front of the sign.”  
John groaned in response. “A selfie? Really?”  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed and turned the camera around in her hands. “I want a photo of both of us. Smile!”  
But instead of smiling John glowered at the camera and it made Clara laugh. She was about to suggest to try it again when he took the camera from her and then it all happened too fast for her to do anything about it. John was kissing her before she could react and the flash lit up, taking a photo of what was possibly the most frequently used posed for a couple. Clara smiled against his lips before he pulled away again.  
“There, that turned out nicely,” he said and showed her the outcome. Clara hated to agree, but he was right. The photo was definitely cute.  
“John,” she began, eyeing him with suspicion, “are you secretly a romantic?”  
He shrugged in reply. “Maybe,” John replied. “How do you feel about dinner?”

* * *

Since they only had one camping chair left John and Clara settled on a blanket outside the van once they had finished dinner and Clara leaned back to take in the atmosphere, smiling at how perfect everything was. They were in Norway, John was the best company she could ask for and even though it was almost midnight the sky was still glowing with the warm tones of a lovely summer sunset. When the mosquitoes came, he set up a couple of candles around them that started filling the air with a citrus scent that was pleasant enough for her nose but kept the annoying insects away. It didn't take him long before John fetched his guitar and started playing a couple of soft chords. It was perfect. All of it. And somehow Clara felt herself grow sad at the thought of her journey coming to an end at some point.  
She was fully aware that she couldn't run away forever, that at some point she would have to face her demons and go back home, back to her old life and suddenly Clara found herself wondering what would happen if she didn't part ways with John after Norway. Carefully she glanced at him, at his handsome figure in the waning daylight and Clara knew that it wouldn't happen. John would move on after her and she would be nothing but a notch on his bedpost. And that was what he would be to her. Clara couldn't fall in love, not now, not with John, not when she was still running away from all the grief she felt because of Danny. That was exactly why she had chosen John, because there was no chance they would fall in love.

Clara decided to take her mind off the matter before it made her sad and instead focused on the melody John had started to play a while ago. It was a nice one even if it was a little bit sad, and it kept changing as if John was slowly improving it.  
“What's it called?” Clara found herself asking because even now she failed to recognize it.  
John stopped playing and lifted his head, smiling at her. “I think it's called _Clara_.”  
She frowned at him response. “I don't understand,” Clara chuckled nervously. She really didn't know what he was talking and when she was beginning to understand she felt an odd tingling in her stomach. “How can the song be called Clara?”  
“Because it's yours. I-” John paused, lowering his gaze back to his guitar, “I wrote it for you.”  
All the words she had been meaning to say suddenly got stuck in her throat as she realized that what she was feeling inside her stomach were butterflies. John had written her a song and a beautiful one at that, but she couldn't just let the butterflies take over. Instead Clara scooted a little closer to him until he finally looked back up.  
John grinned at her. “I'm good. I know.”  
“You're also extremely full of yourself,” Clara laughed before John started playing the opening riff of Pretty Woman.  
“Just telling the truth.” He shrugged.  
“Put the guitar away,” she told him sincerely and waited until John had propped it up against the trailer before she straddled his lap. “How about we do something else you're really good at?”  
“Oh?” John cocked an eyebrow at her. “Like what?”  
He placed his arms around her back, pulling her closer against his chest while Clara adjusted her position. She smiled at him the whole time.  
“Shut up and kiss me,” Clara ordered right before she bent down and their lips locked in a long, soft kiss.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you both so much for your amazing comments!!!! I'm so happy you're enjoying their little holiday. . . and I'm so, so sorry. . .

Clara was on top, driving herself down on him while John was clasping her hips as if holding on for dear life. He moaned loudly and closed his eyes again. John had done it so many time in his life that he had lost count, but it was different with her because he loved her. There had been a few women that he had loved, but by now John could no longer deny it. He was madly in love with her.  
Her breathing was becoming heavier and John could tell she was close when her movements sped up and she was riding him desperately and every time he sank into her John could feel himself closing in on his own climax. Clara gasped right before her walls started pulsing around him and his movements stilled in an instant. She felt too good, too tight and John uttered a low grunt when his orgasm shot through him and pleasure took over for one sweet moment before she collapsed next to him.  
They both remained completely still for a long moment and the only sound that could be heard was that of their breathing. While John was waiting for his heartbeat to slow down again, he thought once again that he loved Clara. He loved everything about her. Her face. Her smile. The way she looked at him as if he was the best thing in the world without even really knowing him. The way she wasn't afraid to speak up or boss him around. The way the butterflies were dancing in his stomach when she looked happy. The way she could make him fall apart under her touch. John had no doubt. He was in love.  
“Hey,” Clara uttered softly and turned around to smile at him. Her cheeks were still flushed with the afterglow of her arousal and John thought that he had never seen her look more beautiful. Maybe he should tell her? Confess his feelings?  
Instead he decided to do something different. “What are you doing after this?” John asked her.  
“Uhm, I was gonna take a shower and then suggest we get coffee from the station,” she replied before she started to frown at him. “Cause we still haven't bought coffee.”  
Clara poked his chest with her index finger and started to laugh, but John didn't feel like joking around right now. He wanted an answer to his question and that wasn't it.  
“No, I meant-” he paused, “after Norway. After this trip is over.”  
John looked at her, trying to read her thoughts from her face, but he only found surprise and maybe a hint of confusion.  
“I, uhm, I don't really know,” Clara admitted after a moment. “I mean, I've been trying not to think about it, but I suppose I'll have to go back home at some point.”  
He reached for her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it before resting it on his chest. “How about we don't go home?” he suggested carefully.  
Clara chuckled in response. “What are you suggesting? Stay here? In the motorhome? I mean, it's lovely, but it's hardly a permanent living situation. Besides, I've got some money saved up, but I will definitely run out at some point.”  
“That's not what I meant,” John replied, looking straight at her to make sure Clara knew that he was serious. “But we've got the motorhome. We could go elsewhere. You wanted to see the world, so why not do it?”  
“Because of the money-”  
“Don't worry about that,” he interrupted her, squeezing her hand in his own.  
Clara smiled at him in reply, but there was still so much sadness in her eyes that John knew he hadn't managed to convince her. “Where would we go?” she wanted to know.  
John shrugged. “You choose. Europe, America, Asia. . . it's your choice.”  
Yet all Clara did was laugh in reply.  
“I mean it, Clara,” he said sincerely. “You've got your whole life to sit at home and teach pudding brains. That option will still be there when we get back. Just run away with me some more.”  
With a sigh she finally looked at him and it seemed that her laughter had died for the moment. “Can I think about it?” Clara asked him. “I mean, we've still got time here in Norway. There's no need to make a decision right now.”  
“Absolutely,” John replied with a smile before he bent forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips.  
“Alright,” she agreed. “I'm gonna take a shower and get us some coffee. Do you wanna set up breakfast in the meantime?”  
A frown appeared on his face. “What happened to _today is my turn_?”  
Clara grinned at him in reply. “Nothing. I'm just feeling nice.”  
With a smile John placed his arm around her and pulled her closer to kiss her again. Yes, he was definitely in love with her.

* * *

When Clara entered the Arctic circle station she couldn't help but smile to herself and yet she knew that maybe she shouldn't. John had asked her to run away with him to wherever the road would lead them and even though her heart had skipped a little beat upon hearing the words she had been so desperate to hear, a part of her had thought that she shouldn't agree on the spot. She had wanted to, but she knew that it was better to at least consider it for a few days. There was no rush, no need to make a decision right away and yet she knew that she would have loved nothing more than to agree.  
There was something about John that made her feel utterly free. With him all of her worries and fears were so far away that they didn't seem to matter anymore and Clara really wanted this feeling to stay. Once she was back home everything would remind her of Danny again, of the life they had never been able to live. She would be reminded of all the pain and the suffering and just sink back into the hole she had finally managed to crawl out of. John had helped her out. He was the reason she hadn't really thought about Danny except for a few brief moments in the last two weeks. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was the wrong way to deal with her problems, but Clara really wanted to just run away with him for a while longer.

When she moved forward in the queue Clara decided to ban these thoughts from her mind for the time being and ordered two cups of coffee to go, glad that the cashier seemed fluent enough to understand her without looking like a startled doe. She thanked the woman and paid for the beverages and was about to head back outside when her eyes fell on a row of newspapers and she came to an abrupt halt.  
For a moment Clara was hardly able to believe her eyes, so she blinked just to be sure her mind wasn't playing a trick on her, but no matter how long she stared at the cover page the view just wouldn't change. There, on the front page of one of the newspapers, was a photo of John. Not someone who looked like him. John. She recognized the wonderful silver curls that she had run her fingers through just an hour ago, she recognized the mouth she had kissed before she had stepped outside the motorhome, she recognized the lines on his face that she had caressed just last night. The man in the photo was John without a doubt.  
Clara grabbed the newspaper and turned back around to the cashier who seemed more than a little confused that Clara had decided to stick around even after paying for her coffee.  
“Sorry to bother you,” she said to the cashier. “But I need you to translate this article for me. Can you do that?”  
The woman stared blankly at her.  
“Please,” Clara almost begged, “I need to know what it says.”  
Finally the cashier nodded and lowered her gaze to the newspaper while Clara waited impatiently to finally receive an answer to the question she had been asking herself for two weeks.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *big group hug*  
> Thank you guys so much for the comments and I'm sorry that I'm not sorry about leaving you to hang on that cliff for a day. But we all knew that their holiday couldn't last forever, didn't we?

Maybe he should tell her. Maybe if John told her about his feelings for her Clara would find it easier to stay with him. Unless, of course, she didn't have feelings for him in return, in which case he would probably ruin it all. John didn't want to lose her. He wanted Clara to stay with him, travel the world with him and maybe, after some time had passed, he could tell her the truth about who he was. If she loved him, she would understand. Not that that would make it easy for them, but at least it was a start and maybe, just maybe he would be able to take her home with him.  
While John was still pacing the ground in front of the van, considering his options, wondering whether he should tell Clara or not, he could see her emerge from the Arctic Circle centre. Maybe it was a bad idea to tell her before breakfast. Tonight would be the better option. He glanced at the breakfast picnic he had set up and nodded to himself. Tonight he would do something even more romantic.  
However, when Clara came closer John soon noticed the lack of coffee and was about to conclude that the centre didn't sell any when he saw the expression on Clara's face. That was what made him realize that something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong. She looked mad, furious even.  
“Didn't you get any co-”  
Before John even had a chance to finish his sentence, Clara reached under her arm and John had no idea what was happening when she threw a newspaper at him. The paper collided with his chest and fell to the ground before he could catch it. When he bent down to pick it up John saw his own face staring back at him and his heart sank into his boots. Too late. She had already figured it out.  
“Oh,” he uttered.  
“Liar,” Clara shouted, her voice trembling with anger. “You filthy bastard!”  
Carefully John picked up the newspaper and looked back at Clara. He had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do except to tell her the truth. John swallowed hard when he saw the anger on her face and he dearly hoped that she would listen to him.  
“Clara, let me explain,” he said calmly. “You don't even know what this article says.”  
“I'm not stupid, John!” she yelled in reply and started to pace the ground in front of him. “God, is that even your name?”  
“Yes.”  
“I've had the cashier translate it, idiot!” Clara went on and her fury seemed to grow with every passing second. He had messed up. Again. Oh God, how was he going to get out of this one? “And do you know what this says?!”  
John gulped. He didn't have a clue, but he doubted it was something positive.  
“It says that you're famous!” Clara laughed, but there was no humour in her laugh this time. It wasn't the laugh that he loved so much. She was really mad with him and somehow he had to make her understand why he had kept his true identity from her. “It says you're the singer of a band, that you call yourself the Doctor! It also says that you died two weeks ago!”  
“ _What?!_ ” John blurted out and his gaze dropped back to the newspaper in his hands. “No, it doesn't say that.”  
It couldn't say that. He wasn't dead. Unless. . .

A terribly feeling starting to rise up inside of him, turning his stomach over and making him nauseous. No, he had talked about going away. Surely they wouldn't have assumed he was dead.  
“Look at me!” Clara demanded, her voice sharp as she punched him in the arm. “I can understand why you kept your identity from me, but this-” Clara broke off and covered her face with her hands. He heard her breathe in deeply before she looked back at him. “This is horrible! You faked your own death, you let everyone believe you died the night that we met and what is even worse, you made me your accomplice!”  
“I didn't!” John found himself raising his voice because right now he felt like it was the only way to make Clara listen to him. And he had to make her listen. He couldn't lose her over some stupid misunderstanding like this. “I don't know what this article says about me, but I didn't do it. I just ran away. Amy and Rory were going to leave the band and I couldn't bear the thought of it, so I ran away. That is all I did, I swear!”  
“You left your friends to believe you were dead,” Clara replied harshly. “That is the worst thing you could ever do to someone who loves you!”  
John opened his mouth to reply, to justify his action, to tell Clara that she was wrong about him. . . but she wasn't. If that was what the newspaper article said, if that was what Amy and Rory and Jack believed, John had truly fucked up. Amy would have been crying her eyes out in the past two weeks. Just the thought of how she must be grieving for him made him sick.

John felt so numb for a moment that he wasn't even aware of the police car driving up to them until it came to a halt right next to their camper van and two officers stepped out of the vehicle. They approached him slowly and he could tell by the look of awe on their faces that they knew him.  
“Doctor?” one of the officers asked carefully and John lowered his head. They had found him. There was nowhere he could run to now, so he simply nodded. “May we see your papers?”  
Without saying a word John drew his wallet out of his pocket and handed over his ID. His real ID. John Smith had been his backup plan for months, a nice idea for when the fame became too much to bear. Maybe, in the back of his mind, he had already suspected that Amy and Rory might leave him. He had felt it. He had planned his escape without really thinking there might come a day he would have the courage to go through with it. A fake ID, a bank account with enough money to go with it. Just a nice escape plan that had even worked. Until now.  
“John Basil Foreman,” the officer read his name out loud, his Norwegian accent thick, “are you aware that the authorities in the UK believe you to be dead?”  
With a sigh John nodded. “I just read it in the newspaper. I swear, it's just a misunderstanding. As you can see, I'm quite alive.”  
The officer handed his ID back to him and John slid his wallet back into his pocket. This was it. This was where this journey and his dream would come to an end. He could feel it.  
“We're gonna have to ask you to return to the UK as soon as possible and get in touch with the authorities, clear up the misunderstanding,” he told John in a friendly manner.  
He nodded again. There was nothing he could say now.  
When the officers turned to leave, it was Clara's voice that made him look up.  
“Can you take me with you to the next town?” Clara asked them and John's eyes widened in horror. “Please? I'm from the UK, too. I just wanna get home. You can drop me off at the nearest train station.”  
“Clara-” John tried to say, but she cut him off with a hand gesture.  
“We can do that,” the officer replied.  
“Great,” Clara sighed, “Give me five minutes to pack.”

When she vanished into the motorhome John knew that he had to follow her. He couldn't just let her leave like this.  
“Clara, please,” John almost begged her while she was already gathering up her clothes and stuffing them into her suitcase. “Just let me explain.”  
No reply. All she did was to roam the motorhome to collect her clothes.  
“I can take you home,” he said. “We can travel back together. Please don't leave like this. I really just want a chance to expl-”  
“There is nothing to explain!” Clara yelled and shot around. Her gaze was boring into him. “You lied to me. About who you are. About what happened to you. You lied to your friends and let them believe you were dead. If you ever lost someone, you know exactly what that feels like!”  
John swallowed hard and right now, as he looked at her, he saw the grief on her face and he knew that she wasn't going to listen to him now. Clara had lost someone. John could vaguely recall her telling him about it, but the memory was so foggy that he couldn't quite grasp it.  
“I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. “I never meant to-”  
“What?” Clara spat. “Lie to me about who you really are? I'm sorry, but I believe that's exactly what you meant to do.”  
John opened his mouth to protest, but Clara was right. She was absolutely right. He had lied to her from the beginning and he had had no intention of coming clean about who he was any time soon. She had every right to be mad at him.  
“I'm sorry,” he apologized again, praying that she would believe he was sincere about it.  
“Just let me leave, John,” she replied. When Clara looked at him her eyes were large and sad. He didn't want her to leave. “I knew that running away with a stranger would be a bad idea, but I didn't think that you would lie to me from the beginning. I can't stay.”  
“Clara-”  
“No.” She shook her head. “I can't look at you for another minute.”  
John hadn't even realized that she had finished packing, but when she reached for her suitcase and headed out of the motorhome without a warning, John knew that he had lost her. There was no point. Maybe, if he had been honest with her from the start, Clara would have stayed, but now he had messed up once again. Once again he had lost someone he loved.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Since it's been asked and it's only gonna get thoroughly mentioned later in the story, here's a short explanation: In the beginning of the story the Doctor and Jack got into a fight and they both fell down the cliff. The Doctor simply walked away and straight into the diner whereas everyone assumed he had fallen in the sea and drowned when they couldn't find him.
> 
> *hands out biscuits to everyone* There, there, it's gonna be okay. . . hopefully. . . at some point. . . probably. Thank you for the comments :)

John was careful when he stepped inside the house and even though it was his home, it really didn't feel like it right now. This house had been the his home for over a decade and he had made so many wonderful memories in here. The day Amy and Rory had moved in. The party they had thrown after the had finished recording their first album together. His last birthday and how everyone had decorated every last corner of this place just for him. John hadn't been here in weeks because of the tour that had ended the night Amy had announced she was pregnant. John swallowed hard. No, it didn't feel like coming home at all. It felt like a walk to the gallows. He had no idea how his friends were going to react and he was dreading the looks on their faces when they found out he wasn't dead at all.  
“I'm home!” he called out into the quiet house and waited for a moment. There was no reply. There was only the sound of a cup shattering on the floor before he heard footsteps. A few seconds later Amy appeared in the doorway. She was dressed all in black, her beautiful, ginger hair tied back and by now John could see her little bump. He hadn't even congratulated her yet.  
John granted her an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry.”  
Amy stared at him for a long moment as if she was unable to believe the sight in front of her eyes. When she finally stepped a little closer, John could tell that she had been crying earlier.  
“I'm not dead,” he said carefully, “I'm really here.”  
His friend stopped in front of him and John felt the strong urge to throw his arms around her, hug her until she couldn't breathe, tell her he loved her and that he was happy for her and Rory, tell her he was so insanely sorry for what happened and cry on her shoulder because right now he was hurting so much.  
John flinched when Amy launched and a second later there was a sharp, stinging pain in his cheek where she had slapped him.  
“Ow!” he howled immediately, raising his hand to his face. “Were you trying to dislocate my jaw?”  
“Rory!” Amy yelled sharply without ever taking her eyes off him and just a short moment later John heard footsteps coming down the stairs before Rory joined them on the corridor.  
He stopped and stared at him for a long moment before he slowly raised his hand to point at John.  
“He's not dead,” Amy said coldly.  
Then, before John could step out of the way, Rory darted forward.  
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted right before he landed a punch directly in John's face. It hurt like hell and for a moment he lost his balance and stumbled backwards against the wall, but Rory was already on top of him, throwing another punch. John howled in pain.  
“That's enough!” Amy raised her voice, stopping Rory from hitting him yet again.  
Instead his hand stopped mid-air, still threatening to cause John further pain. “Do you have any idea what Amy has been through the past weeks?”  
“I'm sorry,” John uttered. He could taste blood in his mouth.  
“I should kill you for real for putting her through this in her condition!”  
“I'm pregnant, not terminally ill!” Amy protested harshly. “Let him go!”  
Finally Rory stepped away from him. “Alright,” he agreed coldly. “Luckily Jack and Missy are on their way here already. She can kill him.”  
Amy turned around and headed back towards the kitchen without saying another word and Rory soon followed her example, leaving John on his own. With a sigh he decided to take his bag up to his room while he waited for Jack and Missy to arrive.  
Jack would be furious with him, just like Amy and Rory were and John needed to apologize him the most because his friend had probably spent the last weeks assuming he had killed him. And Missy, well, he would find a way to deal with his manager. Unless she killed him.

When John thought that enough time had passed he made his way back downstairs and the closer he came to their shared living room, the more clearly he could hear voices coming from inside. Carefully he opened the door.  
This time he wasn't greeted by a punch or a slap but by a pair of strong arms that grabbed him in a tight hug. John reluctantly closed his arms around him in return.  
“Thank all the Gods in the universe!” Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “You're alive!”  
“I'm sorry, Jack,” John said quietly.  
“Doesn't matter,” his friend replied and released him from the embrace to look at him. When he was smiling John felt a weight drop off his shoulders. “What matters is that you're alive and well.”  
“Not quite,” Missy's harsh voice came from the corner as she gestured towards a chair. “Sit! We need to talk.”  
Slowly John moved towards the chair and once more he got the distinct feeling that he was walking towards the gallows in front of an audience of judges, not towards a chair in his own home surrounded by friends. For a moment he wished that Clara was here because everything had seemed so easy with her around, but the thought of her just made him sadder. He had messed up. He had lost them all. Amy, Rory, Clara. . .  
“I demand an explanation,” Missy spat, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
John inhaled deeply before he spoke, considering his words. If he said something wrong, it would just make everything worse.  
“I didn't mean for you to think I was dead,” he said sincerely and his gaze wandered from Missy to Amy. Hopefully she would understand. He needed her now more than ever. His Amy. He best friend.  
“Well, what _did_ you want?” Rory demanded to know. “Except to cause us misery. Amy has been crying her eyes out since that night!”  
“Shut up, Rory!”  
“No, I won't!” He turned towards his wife. “What he did to us, to you, that's unacceptable!”  
“I know that, okay?!” Amy shouted back. “I just want to know his reasons before I let you kill him.”  
John flinched at the sharpness of her voice.  
“Tell us,” Amy demanded.  
He hesitated for a short moment. “I wasn't in my right mind that night. I was sad and angry and. . . and I thought you were going to leave the band now that you're pregnant, I thought you were going to leave me,” he admitted carefully. “I didn't want to stick around and watch it all fall apart because you were so happy and my heart was breaking and I really didn't want to rain on your parade.”  
John paused and took a deep breath. That night seemed like a lifetime ago.  
“Jack found me and we got into a fight. I walked away from the scene and found a place to sleep. The next morning, when I woke up, I just had one thought – to get away. So I left the country.”  
“With what money?” Missy wanted to know. “You haven't used your credit card and the police were searching for you. They would have picked you up at the nearest border!”  
John lowered his gaze to his feet. “I have a fake ID. And another bank account,” he admitted sheepishly.  
“Oh my God, you've planned this,” Amy uttered in horror. “You've planned this all along. All this time that you've talked about running away, about going into hiding. I though you were joking!”  
“I'm sorry,” John apologized once more and he meant it, he really did. Why couldn't Amy see that he was sincere? “I never meant for you to believe I was dead. I never meant to hurt any of you. You have to believe me!”  
“It doesn't matter!” Amy shouted back at him. “What matters is that it happened and I grieved for you for two whole weeks! I thought that my best friend had died and the past weeks were the worst of my entire life when I should have been happy about about the tour and the baby and you've ruined it all, intentionally or not! Just because you waltz back in here with a smile on your face and an apology on your lips doesn't mean I can just forget the last weeks like they never happened! You can't undo this and an apology just isn't enough!”  
Amy darted out of the room without a warning and a couple of seconds later the door slammed shut behind her. Rory hesitated for a moment and threw John another dark look before he finally followed after her. For the first time since Amy had started to speak John dared to breathe.  
“She's right, you know?” Missy remarked. “This is far from over. Now I'm the one who's going to have to sell this to the public in a way that doesn't make you look like the idiot of the century when, in fact, that's exactly what you are. You're an idiot!”  
Missy spun around on her heels and followed Amy and Rory out of the door, leaving him alone with Jack. John granted his friend a weak smile.  
“They're not gonna speak to me for a while, are they?” he asked.  
Jack shook his head. “Can't really blame them.”  
“No, me neither,” he agreed with a sigh.  
There was a silence between the two of them and John grew increasingly aware that there was something that Jack wanted to say, but he didn't just come out with it for some reason.  
“Go on,” John prompted him, burying his face in his hands. “Say it. Tell me what a bastard I am. I deserve it.”  
“I thought I had killed you,” Jack admitted. “At first I didn't want to believe it. I made them continue the search for you even though everyone else had given up. I thought that if I really had killed you I would never be able to live with myself.”  
“I'm sorry, Jack. Out of everyone I've hurt you the most. I didn't think that far. I didn't think you'd assume I was dead. I can understand if you hate me.”  
“Actually,” his friend sighed, followed by a laugh, “I'm just fucking glad you're alive.”  
“Thanks,” John breathed as he rose from his chair. “You seem to be the only one.”  
“Give them time,” Jack replied. “Amy went through a lot and Rory with her. They'll need to sleep over it.”  
John nodded. “Sleep is a good idea.”

He walked into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. He had almost smiled to himself when he found his favourite whiskey exactly where he had left it as if he had never been away at all. John considered pouring himself a glass, but after the events of the past days he decided that he would need more than that to find some peace.  
When the door to his room closed behind him John sank down on his empty bed and took a large sip and for the first time he felt the crushing realisation of what had happened. He had hurt his best friends to the point that he was sure he would lose them. Even if Amy had considered to stay in the band despite the baby, there was no way she would stay now, not after this. Rory would leave with her. And that was at a point when he needed them most because there was a large, gaping wound in his heart where Clara had been. Even though it had only been two weeks John had loved her. He still did and her absence was hurting him more than he would have thought. The drive back home without her had been terrible, all those moments he had turned towards the passenger seat only to find it empty. John didn't even know where she was now or what she was doing, but he hoped that she would get home safely.  
He took another swig out of the bottle and reached into his bag, taking out the camera before sinking back into the pillows. When John switched it on he saw the last photo he had taken of them both, their kiss in front of the sign. It had been years since he had felt this way, but he still recognized the feeling for what it was. It was the feeling of his heart breaking.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my faithful readers :) So glad to know you're enjoying this just so I can torture you with a little more angst. But for now. . . let's see if Clara managed to get home.

Clara dropped her suitcase in front of the door and took a deep breath. She was exhausted and her feet felt sore after the last couple of days, but she was home at last. London. Home. Where she didn't even have a flat anymore. It felt strange to come back after everything that had happened and yet Clara felt like she had nowhere else to go. She couldn't go to her father or her grandmother because they had never wanted her to run away in the first place. They would tell her how glad they were that she was back and that everything had been a big mistake and that was the last thing Clara wanted to hear right now because she knew they were right. An _I told you so_ was not what would cheer her up right now. No, there was only one place she could go and as Clara raised her hand to ring the doorbell she prayed that her friend and former colleague would still be up.  
Luckily for her the door opened just a short moment later and Clara stared into the surprised face of her only friend. “Well, look what the cat dragged in!”  
“Hey,” Clara breathed, granting her friend a shy smile. “Could I crash on your sofa tonight?”  
Donna glared at her for a long moment and Clara was already beginning to think that her friend would turn her down, which, if she was completely honest, wouldn't surprise her. Clara certainly deserved it. Then her features softened a little.  
“You expect me to take you in after you just took off without a warning to travel the world just because you show up on my doorstep and give me that look?”  
“Please,” she pleaded, “I have nowhere else to go, my feet are killing me and I really need someone to talk.”  
With a sigh Donna opened the door a little wider. “Fine, under one condition.”  
Clara raised her eyebrows.  
“That by talk you mean you'll give me all the nasty details,” Donna insisted.  
She smiled at her friend in response because that was the Donna she knew and loved. Clara sighed audibly as she stepped through the door because for the first time since her plane had touched down in England she felt welcome.

Clara sank down on the large sofa in the living room while Donna retreated to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea, but even though the surroundings were familiar, even though Clara had sat in this spot many, many times, after everything that had happened it simply felt strange. It was almost as if she wasn't the same Clara that had abandoned her job a few months ago, as if a lifetime had passed since Danny and Coal Hill and her London life. But it wasn't a lifetime that had happened. It was just a man. And a liar at that. On her way home Clara had felt torn between anger and sadness because she had liked John, she had really liked him and he had lied to her about the most fundamental issues, even his name. She wasn't angry. She was furious. Clara was furious at him for lying and furious at herself for believing him.  
Donna returned with two large, steaming mugs and handed one of them to Clara. She sniffed the contents and instantly recognized her favourite tea brand.  
“God, I've missed your tea,” she uttered.  
“I'm not good at many things, but making tea and typing at the speed of light are among them,” she replied as she sank down next to Clara.  
“You're good at many other things, too,” Clara told her sincerely. Donna was still working as a secretary at Coal Hill where they had met when Clara had started teaching at the school. Donna always put herself down, but Clara had liked her instantly and they had soon struck up a friendship. “You're one of the kindest people I know and an amazing friend.”  
“Well, this amazing friend would love to hear all about what you've been up to these past few months. What happened? You dropped off the face of the earth!”  
With a sigh Clara set her mug down to let the tea cool and hesitated for a moment before she started to tell Donna about everything that had happened. Donna already knew how much she had struggled at Coal Hill after Danny's death and even though Clara had been trying to make it work, at some point it had simply become unbearable. She had needed a change of scenery. Mr Armitage had been sympathetic and told her to take all the time that she needed, so Clara had packed her bags, put her things into storage and set out to travel the world. She told Donna about how she had ended up in a diner in Dorset for months and continued to waste away until a stranger with a guitar had shown up drunk one night and asked her to run away with him.  
“I'm sorry, you just took off with a man you didn't even know?!” Donna gawked at her.  
“I know it sounds crazy,” she admitted. “I wasn't sure about it, but he just seemed so sad and as much in need of company as I was. He was nice and. . . I don't know. He was a chance to see the world.”  
Clara continued her story about John, about arriving in Norway, about the amazing things she had seen there and as she told her friend about the early days of their journey Clara could feel her heart light up with joy. It had been the most wonderful experience of her life and she had loved every second of it.  
Clara laughed. “I can't even tell you how it happened, I just acted on impulse when I kissed him.”  
Donna's eyes widened when she had reached that part of her story. “How old was he again?”  
“I don't know. Somewhere in his 50s.”  
Suddenly Clara felt a stinging sensation in her upper arm where her friend nudged her. “Clara Oswald, you naughty girl! How was it? Come on, give me the dirty details.”  
She lowered her gaze and couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face. But Clara shouldn't be smiling. John had lied to her and no matter what happened before he was still a bastard. “It was amazing,” she admitted sadly. “He was amazing.”  
Then Clara moved on to tell her the rest. She told her about finding the newspaper articles and how weirdly John had acted whenever they had been in public and eventually she told her about finding out who he really was and at that the anger returned to her. John had made a complete fool out of her from the beginning.

“Okay, just to be clear,” Donna interrupted her. The look on her face was one of pure excitement. “You ran away with a _famous rockstar_ , you had an affair with him that you described as the best sex of your life and now you're back in London? _Why?!_ ”  
“He _lied_ to me!”  
Donna laughed in response. “I actually know the Doctor and the band you're talking about. That man is a legend! I totally get why you jumped him. God, those silver curls of his are a dream.”  
Her friend uttered a dreamy sigh and Clara leaned forward to nudge her. “You're not exactly helping here.”  
“I'm not trying to help. I'm trying to understand why you would let such a man go. Tell me, is it just the trousers he wears or he is really that. . . _well hung_?”  
“Donna!”  
“It's an important question!”  
“It doesn't matter, okay?!” Clara spat angrily. “What matters is that he lied to me, he ran away and let his friends think he was dead. After everything I've been through with Danny I just can't ignore what a bastard he is.”  
Clara reached for a cup of tea and took a sip, realizing that it was cold already. It didn't matter.  
“Different question,” Donna inhaled deeply. “How on earth did you not know who he was? I mean, you're into music. You must have recognized him and he even played the guitar for you.”  
“I didn't,” Clara replied plainly. “I love music, yes, but I have no clue what my favourite singers look like. I'm not even sure I've listened to his music before. I don't even know how famous he is, but I'm guessing that at least the woman at the café recognized him. She gave him some odd looks. I didn't think anything by it, I just assumed she found him attractive.”  
“Oh Clara,” her friend chuckled, before her expression turned a little more serious once more. “Are you gonna see him again?”  
“Absolutely not!” she barked. “It was nice while it lasted, but he lied and ruined it all. I have no intention of ever seeing him again. Besides, I wouldn't even know how to do that.”  
“Well,” Donna shrugged, “you've got his name. You know how to use Google.”  
“Don't,” Clara said, glaring at her friend. “We had an adventure. It's over. There's no point. Besides, neither of us wanted it to be anything serious. He has probably forgotten about me already because when I asked him how many women he's been with he couldn't even remember. That's all I am. I'm just one of his many conquests and I don't want to be anything else.”  
To her surprise Donna started to giggle. “You've had an affair with the Doctor.”  
“Yes, I've run away with a rockstar who is also an idiot and we had an affair. Now I'm back and I have to figure out what I want to do with my life. Can we focus on the latter, please?”  
“First we're gonna go to bed,” Donna determined. “While you've been leading your vagabond life I actually managed to keep my job at Coal Hill and they'll expect me to be in my office at 8.”  
“Fine,” Clara replied, “I'll just stay up and read for a bit if you don't mind.”  
Her friend rose to her feet. “Not at all. The living room is yours for as long as you want it.”

When Donna had retreated to bed and Clara was lying on the sofa with her Jane Austen book propped up in front of her, she suddenly found it hard to concentrate on the words. Her mind kept going back to Norway, to John, the Doctor, whatever he liked to call himself and when it was well past midnight and Clara still hadn't found any sleep, she made a decision. She would distract herself until John was nothing but a faint memory in her head.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *group hug for all the amazing comment leaving people* Thank you so much :)   
> Now, what did I hear? You want me to torture you with more angst? :D

Even though every part of his body was aching John dragged himself downstairs because that was where the coffee and aspirin were waiting for him. Maybe he had overdone it a little in the past few days and now his body was taking revenge. He wasn't as young and resilient as he used to be and John flinched when a door was shut at the other end of the corridor and a sharp pain shot through his temples. Okay, he had definitely overdone it. For some reason his knee was bruised and hurting, causing him to limp into the the kitchen rather than walk and he had no clue how that had happened. He was really getting old.  
When John finally reached the kitchen he found Amy and Rory sitting at the kitchen table and their conversation came to an abrupt stop as he walked in. Amy shot him a sinister glance.  
“Good morning,” John said carefully, yet his voice came out hoarse and raspy.  
In response Amy rose from her seat and closed the lid of her laptop before she stuck it under her arm and made her way past him, out of the kitchen.  
“It's 1 pm,” she said coldly before the kitchen door closed behind her.  
Rory looked torn, to say the least, as he exchanged glances between John and the door. He didn't seem sure whether he should stay or follow after his wife and it took him almost a minute to make a decision. Then Rory got out of his chair, mumbled an apology and left the kitchen to follow Amy.

It had been a week since his return and even though John had known that Amy would be mad with him for a while, he hadn't expected it to be this bad. She didn't talk to him. She didn't even look at him and that was at a time when he really needed her. John had so many things that he wanted to get off his chest, he wanted to talk to Amy, his best friend, wanted to tell her about Clara, but he couldn't. Instead he was left to suffer alone.  
John swallowed two aspirin for the hangover and prepared himself a cup of strong, black coffee that he proceeded to sip in solitude until Jack walked into the kitchen.  
“How's the knee?” his friend asked him as he poured himself a cup of coffee as well and slid into the seat next to him.  
John frowned at him in reply. “Not sure what happened to it, but it's bruised and it's annoying.”  
“You banged it on the corridor furniture last night. Woke me up when you cursed the cabinet,” Jack explained and took a sip from the coffee John had made before his face distorted into a grimace. “God, that stuff could reawaken the dead!”  
John felt like something was piercing his heart upon hearing Jack's words. Clara had said the same thing about his coffee back in Norway. In the past few days he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her and he had come to the conclusion that he needed to see her again, talk to her, explain everything. Yet there was one, tiny, little problem. He didn't even know her last name.  
“Well, I like it that way,” John said instead.  
Suddenly he felt Jack's gaze boring into him and John didn't like the fact that his friend was looking at him so intently because he could tell that there was either a question or a lecture coming. Or worse, both.  
“When are you gonna tell me what happened?” Jack asked.  
John sipped his coffee. “I don't know what you're talking about.”  
“Well, I know you went to Norway,” he said, still eyeing him closely. “And I know you came back even more of a wreck than you were before. Something must have happened.”  
He frowned at Jack in reply. “Seriously?” John huffed. “My best friends aren't talking to me over something I've repeatedly apologized for, they're going to leave the band and you ask me why I'm a wreck?”  
“I'm your friend as well and I'm trying to talk to you right now,” Jack replied angrily. “You've been home for a week and all you've done is mope in your room and get pissed.”  
“I've also tried to work on the new album, but no one ever mentions that,” John spat.  
“Really? And how's that going? Cause every time I walk past your room I hear the same sappy melody!”  
John inhaled sharply, thinking of something he could throw back at Jack, but nothing would come to mind because his friend wasn't exactly wrong. He was acting like an arsehole again, brooding over Clara's photos and getting drunk every night. No wonder Amy didn't want to speak to him. If only there was a way for John to find her again. Clara had left him without ever giving him a chance to explain and he wanted her back, he wanted back what they had had in Norway, wanted her back in his arms because the thought of never seeing her again seemed unbearable. Even if she told him to get lost, anything was better than not being able to contact her at all. It was driving him insane. But how would he ever find her with only a first name and a photo?

“Doctor, I'm serious,” Jack said after a moment. “I've known you for decades, I know that something must have happened.”  
He couldn't tell Jack, not about Clara. He was the worst womanizer that John knew and he would congratulate him on the conquest and tell him to find the next. But how was he going to just forget about Clara, the first woman in over a decade that he had loved, the first woman who had seen the real him, who hadn't been afraid to be herself around John?  
“Nothing happened,” he replied harshly. “I ran away, I had a nice holiday, I came back to my friends who thought I was dead and now they're not talking to me. That's it.”  
“Fine,” Jack hissed and rose from his chair. “Then go on and drown your last brain cells in whiskey if you think that's easier than accepting help.”

John flinched when the kitchen door was slammed and he was once more made painfully aware of his throbbing head. Maybe Jack was right, maybe he should get it off his chest rather than dull the memory, but since Amy wasn't speaking to him right now John didn't see another option.  
When he had finished his coffee John made a second cup and retreated back to his room where his beloved guitar was already waiting for him. He took it from its stand and sat down on the bed to play that one melody that had been haunting him since the last night they had shared in Norway. The song he had written for Clara.  
John remembered every detail about it so vividly as if he was still there. The sweet taste of her lips, the gentle touch of her hand. He had thought about it every single night since his return and the dreams and memories just weren't fading. John wanted her back.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments!!!!! Now, will our stubborn idiots finally meet again?

His music was good. In fact, it was amazing and Clara couldn't deny that the sound of his voice still managed to make her feel a little funny in the best of ways. After sending out a few applications to surrounding diners Clara had followed Donna's terrible advice and started to do some research on the Doctor. To her surprise she realized that he was a little more famous than she would have expected and that she knew many of his songs, including the one they had danced to at the bar in Trondheim. Clara felt like slapping herself for not seeing the signs, for not realizing what was going on sooner and the more time passed the more furious she grew at John. He had played her better than he played his guitar and Clara had fallen for it. It didn't matter that his voice could still make her shiver, it didn't matter that whenever she looked at one of his pictures she still felt reminded of the butterflies she had felt during their time together. It was over. In fact, it hadn't even really been anything to begin with.  
Clara startled when suddenly the earphones were lifted from her head and she turned around to see that Donna had finally returned from work.  
“Oh,” she uttered, praying that her friend wouldn't see what she had been up to. “You're home kinda late for a Friday.”  
“And _you_ are swooning over your handsome rockstar,” Donna remarked, nodding towards the laptop.  
“I'm not swooning over anyone,” Clara replied and her voice sounded a little angrier than she would have anticipated. She slammed the lid of the laptop shut. “I was just doing some research about-”  
“How hot he looks on stage?”  
Clara shot her friend a dark look.  
“Come on, admit it, that waistcoat looks great on him. Is he really as thin as he looks?”  
“I wanted to know what kind of music he makes, whether I know any of his songs.”  
“And?” Donna asked.  
“And I do,” Clara confirmed.  
“ _Aaaaand?_ ” her friend raised her eyebrows hopefully.  
“And that's it. No, I think I've determined that I hate him,” she concluded. “I also hate myself for falling for his lies, but mostly I hate him for lying to me in the first place. It doesn't matter whether he looks good on stage or not because he's just not a decent person. I don't need that in my life.”  
“Alright, you just admitted that you've considered him in your life,” her friend remarked, a large grin stuck on her face. “Because that sounds like a very well rehearse excuse you've made up to convince yourself. Admit it, you're still thinking about him.”  
Clara growled in reply. It really wasn't an excuse and she knew it. She had told him from the beginning that they would never be anything serious and John had probably slept with ten other women in the past two weeks since they had left Norway. It really wasn't an excuse.  
“Yes, I am still thinking about him,” she admitted. “We've had a nice holiday that ended in a very big disappointment and now I need to distract myself. It's a Friday night, let's get dolled up and go to a bar.”  
Donna let out a heavy sigh. “Finally a decent suggestion!”

* * *

John was about to pour himself another drink when suddenly the bottle was whisked away from his hand and Jack pushed himself into his field of vision, beaming at him.  
“Okay, that's a smile. That's. . . no, stop it. I'm against smiling,” John growled. “Give the whiskey back.”  
“Nope, not tonight. I'm not gonna let you drown your sorrows alone in your room on a Friday night.”  
John raised his eyebrows at his friend in doubt.  
“Amy, Rory and I are going to a bar and you're coming with us,” Jack announced and gave him a friendly nudge. “Come on, it's been ages.”  
“In case you forgot, Amy and Rory are still not talking to me, so I'd rather just get drunk on my own than be in a room with them for a whole evening,” he growled in response. They used to have so much fun together, but right now, under the current circumstances, John really couldn't see how putting all four of them in a room for a whole night could possibly end well.  
“And how are they ever gonna talk to you if they never see you? You've barely come out of your room in the past few days. Doctor, please,” Jack almost begged him, “just come with us tonight.”  
Still John wasn't entirely convinced. He wasn't in that sort of mood. In fact, he was in a pretty terrible mood.  
“I think you could use the distraction,” his friend suggested and granted him a sincere smile. He didn't really leave John a choice.  
“Fine,” he agreed at last. “Fine, I'll come with you.”

For a moment John considered to shave or change his clothes to something that didn't look like pyjama bottoms, but he didn't really think that it was worth the effort and he almost regretted his decision to come along as soon as he was in the car with the rest of them. Amy had volunteered to be the driver which John should have known because he never would have gotten into the passenger where he was subjected to Amy's glowering glances. She didn't say a word.  
By the time they arrived at the bar John was already fed up with it all, but he was here now, so he might as well make the best of it. He walked up to the bar where the barman greeted him in a friendly manner and told him how happy he was when he had heard that John's death had been nothing but a publicity stunt.  
“I'm sure the sales of your albums must have skyrocketed,” he said with a grin.  
John nodded wearily. “Yeah, they did.”  
“Would you like your usual, Doctor?”  
“Double, please.”  
The barman poured him a drink and John took a large sip before he turned around to have a look at his surroundings. The last time he had been to a bar he had danced with Clara to one of his songs. She had been as light as a fairy in his arms and her smile had warmed up his heart in an instant. Now the memory of it hurt so much that he found it hard to breathe. That was the night he had started to really fall in love with her. Just having her around him had been a joy and it had lit up his life if only for a brief moment. Later that night Clara had led him out of the back and taken him into her mouth out in the open because she was crazy and he had loved her for that. John would give about anything to go back to that day.  
When John realized that he was starting to grow nostalgic again he rose from his seat and made his way across the room to find the rest of the band and he already spotted Amy's red hair in the crowd. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe he should make a bit of an effort. Then he started to overhear the conversation they were having.  
“Why did you bring him along when it's so plain that he doesn't want to be here?!” Amy demanded to know.  
“He wants you to talk to him!” Jack argued desperately.  
“Well, tough luck because I'm Scottish and so is he, which means he knows I'm still more likely to murder him than have a conversation! An apology just isn't gonna cut it this time and he doesn't even make the slightest effort!”  
“He's trying!”  
“He can try all he likes. I won't change my mind. I'm done with the band!”  
John's heart sank into his boots as he heard those words come out of her mouth and he stopped at the exact moment that Jack looked up and spotted him. He gave Amy a nudge until she turned around and noticed John as well. It was over. The band was over. He had nothing left to lose now.  
“I can't say I'm surprised,” John uttered. He felt so numb. And furious. He had always known that Amy would leave just like the others had left before her and yet he had still clung to the last bit of hope inside of him that just refused to die. And the worst part of it was that Amy was still too mad at him to say it to his face. “I mean, I've suspected that you'd leave with the baby on the way. It's always the same with you women.”  
“Excuse me?!” Amy gawked at him and crossed her arms in front of her chest.  
“I'm right, am I not? It's what happened with Rose and with Martha. They found a man, had a baby, abandoned the band. I should really just stop hiring women. They're unreliable. Always have been.”  
Amy raised her index finger as a warning and John knew that she was about to shout at him, but Jack held her back.  
“Don't listen to him. He's been drinking,” he tried to reason with her, but Amy wasn't about to be held back by anyone. She struggled free from Jack's grip and glared at John.  
“You think _that's_ why I'm leaving?!” she shouted at him. “I'm leaving because you're a bastard, Doctor! Because you've been trying to sabotage my relationship for years, you've been trying to prevent the wedding, you've been trying to come between me and Rory from the start because you hate the competition! I'm leaving because you're a jerk who hasn't been able keep a friend for longer than a few years and I'm all you've got left. I'm not yours, Doctor, I never have been and just because you don't want anyone in the proximity of your best friend doesn't mean that I'm going to put my life on hold! I'm leaving because you left us and let us think you were dead for two whole weeks!”  
“Guys,” Jack interrupted her rant. “Can we please not have this argument in public?!”  
“Go away if you don't wanna hear it!” John yelled at him. “Because for the first time in weeks my best friend is talking to me and I would really like her to finish with her insane accusations!”  
“Alright. I'm going,” Jack spat. “The air in here is getting a little too toxic for my taste.”  
And with that Jack turned around and pushed his way through the crowd towards the exit while John looked back at Amy.  
“Anything else you wanna say to me?” he asked coldly.  
“No,” Amy barked, “I'm done.”

When Amy spun around on her heels and left him standing in the middle of the bar John had exactly two options. Call a taxi and go home or stay for a bit longer. He looked at the rest of the whiskey in his glass and downed it before he decided to go to the bar for another refill. Yet as he turned towards the bar John spotted a woman standing right next to it and the sight of her face made his heart skip a beat.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, I don't wanna leave you hanging on that cliff for much longer. I hope you'll cringe reading this as much as I've cringed writing it :D And thank you all for the amazing comments. Again, sorry for the angst. . .

“Hello, I'm Bonnie,” the young woman said with a smile. John had already noticed that she wasn't Clara when he had approached her. The closer he had come to her the more obvious it had become. She wore her hair a little differently, her movements were different and now that he was face to face with her John could tell that she wasn't his Clara even though the resemblance was almost eerie.  
“I'm the Doctor,” he replied and he let his gaze wander down her body. She was beautiful, just like Clara. Maybe if he drank enough he wouldn't be able to tell the difference.  
“I know,” Bonnie smiled sweetly and craned her neck a little as she leaned against the bar, putting herself on display in front of him. It was going to be easy. John just needed to forget that she wasn't Clara and all would be well, if only for a brief moment.  
“Can I buy you a drink, Bonnie?”  
“Sex on the Beach,” she replied with a smirk and John's mouth dropped open for a second before he realized that she was talking about a cocktail. Then he nodded towards the barman who instantly went on to prepare the drink as well as pour him another whiskey. John demanded the bottle instead.  
“Shall we sit in the corner?” John suggested, gesturing towards one of the sofas and Bonnie agreed.

John sank down on the sofa a few moments later and had a sip of his whiskey while the woman sat down next to him, a little closer than he had anticipated. Their knees were touching, yet all he could think about was how badly he wanted her to be Clara. He missed the taste of her lips so much, he missed how she had felt. But all he could do was try to recreate what he had had with Clara with a woman who looked like her. Her perfume didn't even smell remotely the same. John downed his drink in an attempt to dull his senses.  
“So, Bonnie, what do you do?” he asked and forced himself to smile at her.  
Bonnie smiled back, but it wasn't the smile he had seen on Clara's face. It wasn't kind or gentle. “You didn't really bring me here to talk, did you?”  
John let out a heavy sigh. “No.”  
“Good,” Bonnie concluded and raised her glass to him before she took a sip.  
In return John leaned forward and poured himself another drink. How long before he didn't care that Bonnie wasn't actually Clara? He wanted so much to forget just for a moment.  
“Why did you bring me here?” the woman enquired curiously, that strange smirk still on her lips. In the dim light of the bar John thought he could almost be fooled into thinking she was Clara as long as she didn't talk or smile.  
John shrugged in reply and then started to laugh. “Actually, I was thinking about kissing you. Maybe a little more,” he admitted.  
“And why me?” she asked, sipping her cocktail.  
He hesitated, wondering whether she would stay if he told her the truth. Lying hadn't really helped him so far when it came to women. “You remind me of someone. Is that alright with you?”  
“I think so, yeah,” Bonnie replied, nodding.  
John emptied his drink and set his glass down on the table. He could already feel the whiskey running through his head, making him brave. Or stupid. It didn't matter when Bonnie leaned forward and pulled him closer by grabbing the collar of his shirt. When their lips touched John could only taste the cocktail on them. They didn't taste like Clara at all.  
Still he opened his mouth to her because it was better than nothing, better than the constant pain and misery, better than wondering what the hell Clara was up to right now or whether Amy would ever forgive him. Still better than nothing.  
When Bonnie broke the kiss John gasped for air and he looked at her to find her pouting at him.  
“Something wrong?” he asked.  
“You,” she chuckled. “You need to loosen up a bit.”  
“Alright,” John sighed and reached for the whiskey bottle to have a swig. He was going to do it. He was going to get drunk and fuck her, pretending it was Clara, have her back for just one night.  
Once he had set the bottle back down, he grabbed Bonnie by the waist and pulled her up on his lap while she uttered a sound of surprise.  
“Uh, easy there,” Bonnie giggled in excitement.  
“Shut up,” John growled at her and pulled her down for another kiss.

* * *

Clara glared at the dancing couples as if she could incinerate them with her looks while she sipped her drink and suddenly going out seemed like the worst decision she could have made. Everything reminded her of John when all she really wanted was to forgot him forever. Two weeks. How much longer could it possibly take?  
“Wow, stop it,” Donna uttered. “Seriously, if looks could kill, they'd all be dust by now.”  
Clara finished her cocktail and put the glass back on the table a little more loudly than she had intended. “Don't you ever get the feeling that you wanna murder every happy couple on earth?”  
“Occasionally, yes,” her friend confirmed, sipping her drink. “But I think what you need is a distraction.”  
Donna raised her head and looked right past Clara before a smirk spread across her face. “And the perfect one just walked in. Damn, that's one fine looking distraction.”  
Clara turned her head and instantly spotted the man Donna was talking about. There was no way that she had meant somebody else. He was tall, lean, dark-haired and he had a truly handsome face. Oh yes, he was a picture book distraction. Then, to her surprise, the man turned towards her and smiled.  
“He's not looking at me, is he?” Clara whispered.  
Donna giggled in response. “Oh, he is,” she replied. “I think I'm gonna go to the loo. And I'll take my time, don't worry.”  
Her friend rose from her seat and as soon as she was gone the handsome man started to make his way across the bar towards her.  
“Hello,” he said, smirking at Clara.  
“Hi,” she breathed. From up close he looked like an even better distraction than she would have thought.  
“Listen, I saw that your friend was leaving and I just wanted to make sure that no one bothers you while she's away. Is that alright?”  
“More than that,” Clara smiled at him. “Why don't you sit down? Looks less like a guard dog that way.”  
The man chuckled and sank down onto the empty chair, that smirk still on his lips. “What's your name? I can hardly call you beautiful woman.”  
She giggled in response. “You can, but my name is Clara. Yours?”  
“Jack,” he said.  
“And your real name?”  
He laughed in reply. “It's Jack. Why?”  
Clara shrugged. “No reason.”  
“Can I buy you a drink, Clara?”  
For a moment Clara considered turning him down. She wasn't really in the right mood for a man at the moment, neither for a fling nor for something serious.  
“It's just a drink. Nothing more,” he reassured her when he noticed her hesitation. “I won't take it as a sign that you want to sleep with me. Even though, well, if you offered. . .,” he shrugged, laughing.  
Clara chuckled. “Alright. I'll have a whiskey.”  
“Wise choice,” Jack congratulated her and gestured towards the barman before he turned his attention back to her. “I think I like you, Clara.”  
She smiled at him in response. She wasn't in the mood right now, but as Donna had pointed out, she really needed a distraction. And maybe after a while Clara could get into the right mood for a man.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so much for the comments, guys!!!! I know the tag says unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I'm sorry to have put you through this XD

“No. Absolutely not. Although there was this guy,” Clara told him after Jack had asked her whether she had a boyfriend. She didn't really want to tell him all of it, but maybe if she kept the information to a minimum he would be sympathetic and understand why she had trust issues. “We met and he was lovely, so we decided to spend some time together.”  
“Isn't that how it usually starts?” Jack enquired while he sipped his drink, all the while giving her that same smirk.  
“Yes, but it was different. We were just friends in the beginning until-”  
“Until you stopped being just friends.”  
Clara sank back into her seat and sighed. “I made the first move, we were happy for a while until he turned out to be the biggest jerk I've ever met,” she spat angrily.  
Jack chuckled and there was a knowing smile on his lips. “Why? What happened?”  
“He lied to me about the most fundamental things!” Her voice sounded a little harsher than Clara had anticipated, but she was still so angry with John that she found it hard to hold back. She didn't even know why she was telling Jack, a complete stranger, about it, but right now her anger just wanted out.  
“Well, that makes him an idiot,” he replied.  
“Exactly!”  
“And he certainly doesn't deserve a beautiful and intelligent woman like you,” Jack added and he raised his glass to her before he drank.  
“Thank you,” Clara grumbled in response and then continued her agitated rant. “I just can't get over how he could make such a fool out of me. I mean, we had a deal not to talk about the past, but we didn't agree to lie to each other about everything. He's an idiot and I hate him!”  
To her surprise Jack started to laugh. “Oh Clara, I don't think you do.”  
“Of course I hate him,” she retorted, scoffing. “What else? Should I try to find him and beg him to take me back after everything? No, I don't think so. Besides, it was just a fling anyway.”  
Slowly Jack shook his head, still smiling.  
“What is that supposed to mean?!” she demanded angrily.  
“Hate is too strong an emotion to waste on someone you don't like,” he replied in a simple manner and gave her a soft shrug.  
Still Clara didn't quite understand what Jack was on about and she wasn't sure she wanted John to be the topic of their conversation any longer. Coming to the bar, letting Jack buy her a drink, it had been meant as a distraction.  
“Yes, of course I liked him. I wouldn't have slept with him if I hadn't like him,” she countered, “but that's over now.”  
Jack chuckled softly. “It's fine, Clara. It's fine to be still in love with him, especially if it was recent.”  
“I am not in love with him,” Clara argued and started to laugh. “Really, really not in love with him.”  
On the other side of the table Jack raised his eyebrows at her, eyeing her with suspicion. Clara thought that he could look at her like that for as long as he wanted and it wouldn't change her answer. She wasn't in love with with John. She couldn't be in love with John because of so many reasons, the most important one being that it had been meant as a fling and nothing more.  
But then why was she still feeling so angry? Why couldn't she just accept the fact that he was an arse and move on, forget him? Why wouldn't he leave her head?  
Because John wasn't just an arse. He had been so sweet and gentle, he had written her a song. A part of her wondered if he had done that for all the other women he had slept with, if he had moved on to the next already and the thought of that made Clara sick. She didn't want John to move on even though he probably had. If she had a choice she would just love to forget that he had lied to her and go back to Norway, back in his arms where he had made her feel things she had never expected to feel. Loved, wanted, carefree, with hundreds of butterflies dancing around in her stomach.  
Oh God. She had fallen in love with him. That was not how it was supposed to be.  
“Clara, are you okay?” Jack asked her carefully.  
Clara swallowed in response, still trying to wrap her head around what she was feeling for John, but right now she couldn't make any sense of it at all. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled and rose to her feet. “I'm sorry. I think I should leave.”  
“Alright,” he agreed and glanced at his watch, “I should probably get back to my friends. Before they take apart the bar across the street.”  
“I'm sorry,” Clara apologized again. Jack was probably a nice guy, but right now she needed to go home and sort out her feelings. “Thanks for the drink.”  
“My pleasure,” Jack replied with a smile.

* * *

Bonnie was grinding down against his crotch, her hands buried in his hair and their lips were still locked in a kiss, yet all John felt was the room spinning around his head. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right at all. The taste of her lips, the touch of her hands, it was all wrong and he missed the tenderness and the passion he had shared with Clara.  
Softly John pushed her away and opened his eyes. Just by looking at her he could hardly see the difference in the dim light of the bar, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't even close and he just couldn't fool himself into thinking it was Clara. Even his body refused to react to her in any way.  
“We could go elsewhere,” Bonnie suggested with a smile and nodded towards his crotch. “I could give you a hand.”  
John scoffed. “I don't think that's gonna help,” he replied. His words came out slurred, his tongue so heavy as if it was made of lead. He should go home and sleep it off, not waste any more time with the woman that wasn't Clara. She could never be her.  
Bonnie giggled in response. “You haven't met my hands yet. They're quite talented,” she said and suddenly John could feel her fingers between his thighs as they were slowly making their way towards his crotch.  
“I'm sorry,” he apologized and let his head sink. It would be easier if he had a way of contacting Clara, of talking to her just one more time. They circumstances under which they had parted just weren't right and the thought about it wouldn't let him rest. He needed to talk to her once more. What he would give to talk to her right now, to kiss her, to just sink into her arms and fall asleep. How was ever going to forget about that when all of his thoughts just circled around that?  
Bonnie had obviously realized that they were done because she climbed off his lap and sank down on the sofa with a sigh while John felt increasingly uncomfortable in this bar. It was too loud, too noisy and he had had too much to drink. He needed to go home.  
“Well, that was. . . fun. For a moment,” Bonnie sighed and her voice was heavy with sarcasm. Whether or not she had really enjoyed herself didn't matter. John couldn't care less. All he knew was that he didn't feel any better at all. Amy was still not talking to him and Clara still wasn't here.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled and shot her an apologetic glance. Those large eyes. Almost like Clara's in this light. “You look so much like her.”  
Bonnie frowned at him in reply.  
“I really, really loved her,” John admitted heavily. Even two weeks later his heart was still in pieces and he just couldn't find a way to put it back together. Not without help. If only he could talk to Amy, tell her just how much he was hurting. “I just want her back.”  
John sniffed when he felt the tears coming and wiped them away with the sleeve of his hoodie. He hadn't cried since that night he had thought he had lost Amy and now he had lost her for real. Clara had been so good to him, so sweet and gentle and loving. Right now there was nothing he wanted more than for her to show up and tell him what an idiot he was for acting the way he did.  
“I think you should go home,” Bonnie told him, her forehead still wrinkled in a frown. “Sleep it off, you know.”  
John wiped his eyes once more and when he looked up he noticed that Jack had returned to the bar. Go home. That was what he needed.  
Without paying any further attention to Bonnie John rose to his feet and he needed a moment to find his balance before he started to make his way towards Jack.

“Wow, you look like hell,” his friend remarked when he looked at him and as John took another step he stumbled over something on the floor, but luckily for him Jack caught him at the last moment. “Whoah, looks like someone's ready to go home.”  
“Been ready for hours,” John slurred in response. He glanced around the bar. “Where's Amy?”  
“Probably home already. Come on, let's go.”  
John nodded and as Jack started to drag him towards the exit there was only one thought in his head. Something had to change because he just couldn't go on like this for much longer. He had to find Clara.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your sweet comments! I know I sound like a broken record, but you really are the sweetest readers :) And I'm sorry about the Bonnie scare XD

John had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night and now the sun was shining mercilessly through the windows, something that really didn't make his hangover any better. Maybe one day he would learn from his mistakes, but today was obviously not the day. His head was hammering and he felt sore all over and the memories of making out with that woman last night just made his stomach turn over. John couldn't even remember her name and usually that hadn't bothered him, but this time it was different. This time he was still trying to piece his heart back together.  
“When are you gonna tell what happened in Norway?”  
John turned around spotted Jack casually leaning against the door. “Jesus Christ!” he blurted out and sat up in an instant, his heart hammering inside his chest after the scare. “What the hell are you doing, standing there like a creep?!”  
“I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can talk,” Jack replied and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
John frowned at him. “Seriously? I'm hungover and sore and really not in the mood for chitchat.”  
His friend bent down and picked something off the floor that John didn't recognize until it came flying in his direction. A bottle of water landed on his bed with a thud, followed by a package of painkillers.  
“Now can we talk?” Jack asked.  
John sank back into the pillows with a groan. What was it that he had thought about last night? Something had to change and he already had a pretty good idea how to go about that. He had an idea how he might get Clara back.  
“There's nothing to talk about, I told you that before,” he replied brusquely.  
“Yeah, except I don't believe that,” his friend said, raising his voice. Why couldn't Jack just leave him alone? His angry voice was making his head swim. “And I don't think it's just because of Amy and Rory. I mean, you've been acting like a prick before, but you've gone a little overboard in the last few days.”  
John scoffed in response.  
“Okay, let me put it so you understand it as well,” he cleared his throat. “What you said to Amy last night was absolutely out of line. You're mad, we get it, but this is not the way to treat a friend, especially not one who is already angry with you!”  
John opened his mouth to respond, but Jack instantly cut him off.  
“No, I don't wanna hear excuses. I want you to apologize to her because we're still living under the same roof and I can't stand the tension anymore. Amy and Rory have every right to be mad at you and it's not your place to sit in your room and sulk all day long,” Jack almost shouted at him before he lowered his voice once more. “Unless there is something you're not telling me.”

For a brief moment John even considered coming clean about Clara and what had happened in Norway, about how he had fallen in love just to have his heart broken because he had been an idiot. But if Jack knew he would do everything in his power to prevent the plan John had made last night and that couldn't happen. It was only a small chance of seeing Clara again, but a small chance was better than none at all.  
“No,” he replied eventually. “There's nothing else.”  
Jack eyed him for a long moment as if he wasn't sure whether he should believe him or not. Then he nodded. “Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I expect you to apologize to Amy.”  
“I will,” John confirmed while Jack was already turning to leave.  
As soon as the door had closed behind his friend, John reached for the painkillers and swallowed one of them with a large sip of water. He would apologize to Amy when he returned, but first he needed a clear head for what he was about to do.

* * *

“It's Saturday,” Donna remarked as she stepped into the room. “Why are you already up?”  
Clara looked up from her tea mug and granted her friend a weak smile. The truth was that she hadn't been able to sleep for hours and she just hadn't wanted to wake Donna up during her well deserved weekend.  
“Couldn't sleep,” she replied simply. “I've been thinking.”  
“About the handsome man who bought you drink last night?” Donna raised her eyebrows while she sank down on the sofa next to Clara. “I saw you when I returned from the loo. You seemed happy, so I decided to call it a night and go home. How did it go?”  
Clara sighed heavily. “Very well. At first. Jack was nice and charming, a little sleek if you know what I mean,” she chuckled before her featured turned a little more serious again. “Then he asked if I had a boyfriend and I started telling him a bit about John. Don't worry, I left out the rockstar bits.”  
“Which I will never understand,” Donna remarked. “If I had slept with a rockstar I would brag about it every chance I got.”  
Clara shot her a dark look.  
“Fine,” Donna said, rolling her eyes. “Go on.”  
“Jack said something. Something I hadn't really considered before and I'm starting to think that maybe he was right,” she admitted.  
“Which is?” her friend enquired curiously.  
Clara exhaled sharply and stared back into her empty tea mug. “He said that I was in love with John.”  
Donna snorted. “You need a stranger to tell you that? Girl, I could have told you two weeks ago.”  
“It wasn't supposed to happen!” Clara replied defensively. “I never meant to fall in love with him, I didn't even consider that I might when we started sleeping together. I mean, he is older than I am and I knew that he had slept with more women than he could count and I just wanted a bit of fun. I'm not ready for anything else, not after Danny.”  
“Danny was over a year ago,” her friend said calmly.  
“Yes, and I'm not even close to coming to terms with his death!” she argued. “I mean, look at me. I gave up my dream job, I ran away with a complete stranger to a country I've never been to and I'm still not ready to just go back to my old life. I can't just fall in love with the first man I meet, it doesn't work like that.”  
“Apparently it does.”  
“That was the condition for me,” Clara admitted. “That we won't fall in love. Because I can't handle anything else.”  
“Tell me something,” Donna prompted her and she sat up straight, looking intently at Clara. “While you were with John, what did you feel? Did you think about Danny? How was it?”

She hesitated for a long moment because Clara could very well imagine what her answer must sound like. But Donna didn't seem like she was going to let Clara refuse the answer.  
“I was happy, okay?” she spat. “John was good for me. Travelling, being with him, it made me feel free.”  
“Go and find him,” her friend told her.  
Clara shook her head.  
“Why the hell not?!”  
“Because he lied, because we can't have what we had in Norway and that's all I'm ready for at the moment. And I'm fairly certain that he's already moved on,” Clara admitted and while she was saying these words her heart was aching a little. She wished that she could go back to Norway, back to the way it had been before she had found out who he really was, before she had been aware of her feelings for him. “Jack was right, I'm in love with him. That's why I can't see him again. He would break my heart eventually.”  
“Maybe he's just as much in love with you?” Donna suggested hopefully.  
Clara hadn't expected that their conversation would take a funny turn, but all of a sudden she couldn't help but laugh. “The rockstar and the school teacher. Maybe if this was a silly romance novel, but it's not,” he replied and rose to her feet. “I'm gonna go and take a shower.”

When Clara left the living room she felt a little better because she knew that she was making the right decision. Even if they managed to get back together, even if she forgave him for lying, a relationship between them could never work out. No, it was better if she just forgot about John and never saw him again.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments *group hug*  
> Now, John has an idea. . . but will he succeed?

John parked his car in front of the diner and he could already spot a couple of people staring at his Mercedes as if they had never seen a car that was newer than 10 years, but he just couldn't be bothered to brag about his car right now. He had already stopped by the beach promenade and asked a couple of people whether they had seen Clara around, but none of them had recognized her from the photo. The diner was his last chance and the safest bet of all. The owner would know her and maybe, just maybe, she had returned to the town.  
When John stepped into the diner he was instantly reminding of the day he had met Clara. She had looked so beautiful and yet her eyes had betrayed all of her sadness. She had been lonely just like him and their journey had started here about a month ago. If he could do it all over again John would without hesitation. Only this time he would tell her the truth from the beginning.  
“Can I get you anything?”  
John looked up, yet instead of Clara there was an old man wiping the counter and he looked even grumpier than John felt most of the time. He was the owner, of that John was sure.  
“No, but maybe you can help me,” he said and stepped up to the counter. John drew a photograph out of his pocket that showed Clara on the ferry and he handed it to the man. “I'm looking for Clara. She used to work here or still does, I'm not sure.”  
The owner scoffed when he saw the photo before he put it down on the counter. He squinted his eyes at John. “Who are you?” the man demanded to know and he seemed quite suspicious of John. “You're not a rapist or a stalker or anything?”  
John rolled his eyes. “Well, if I was I would probably not tell you that, would I?”  
The owner shoved the picture back in his direction. “I can't help you.”  
“Please,” he almost begged him. “I need to find her. We travelled together and we got separated. I need to see her again. Just give me something. Her address. Her last name. Anything. Please. Does she still work here? Did she get home safely?”  
John looked at the man pleadingly, hoping for just a small piece of information that could help him find Clara. Surely the owner couldn't be so heartless as to deny him that.  
“Listen, I don't know you, but if Clara hasn't given you her last name or address, my guess is that she didn't want you to know.”  
“It just never came up!” John almost yelled at him in response before he quickly softened his voice again. “Please, I need to see her again. I need to know that she's okay.”  
“What you need is to get out of my diner!” the owner replied harshly and pointed towards the door. “Clara no longer works here, so don't bother coming back.”  
“At least give me her name!”  
The owner was his last, his only chance of finding Clara or at least of finding a hint. If he refused to help him there was nothing else John could do. He needed to make him see reason.  
“Please, I'm beginning you!”  
“No!” the man replied and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Clara is a nice girl and I will not give out her name to a random drunk who comes in here, smelling like a bar. Look at yourself!”  
John took a step back, but he knew what the man was talking about. He had come here without even changing out of yesterday's clothes and the owner was probably right. He must reek of smoke and alcohol and he was still sporting that beard that he hadn't bothered to shave in two weeks. No one in his right mind would give him any information about Clara.  
“I love her,” John admitted eventually. There was nothing else he could do. “We were together for a while and I lied to her and she left. I just wanna make it right because I can't stop thinking about her.”  
“Alright, you need to leave. Now.” The man straightened his shoulders and pointed towards the door again.  
“Please, just-”  
“Get the fuck out of my diner or I'm calling the police!”

John let his shoulders sink when he realized that he was beaten. There was no way in hell that the owner would help him and the worst part of it all was that he could understand why that was. He must seem like an insane person to him.  
Slowly John reached for the photo and slid it back into his pocket, swallowing the tears that were already threatening to flow from his eyes again. “I'm sorry to have bothered you,” he mumbled and turned his back on the owner.  
“Hey, if what you say is true,” he said, “she'll probably call you if she wants to. If not, well, then you should probably just move on.”  
John nodded slowly and made his way out of the diner, only to find a surprise waiting for him by his car.

“Jack,” he blurted out. “What the hell are you doing here?!”  
“I followed you here!” his friend replied in an accusatory tone. “Which really wasn't easy on the motorway. You were speeding like mad!”  
“Why?” John asked. He was completely baffled by Jack's sudden appearance and he couldn't make any sense of it at all.  
“Because I know that you're hiding something from me and I wanted to find out what that was. Why would you come back here? What happened the night after our fight? Where did you go?”  
“I told you,” he replied, “Norway.”  
“All on your own?”  
With a sigh John sank back to lean against the car. What was the point in keeping it from Jack any longer? Why didn't he just tell him about Clara? Why couldn't he admit in front of him that he was broken? Amy, yes, but why was it so hard in front of Jack?  
Because his friend was a womanizer and they had spent years trying to outdo the other just for a laugh. They had bragged and boasted with their conquests, but John simply couldn't brag about this one. Jack would probably have a different opinion.  
“I went with someone,” he admitted eventually, lowering his gaze to his feet.  
“Was it a woman?” John enquired curiously. “Oh, it was, wasn't it? You sly dog!”  
John looked up and glowered at his friend. That was exactly the reaction he had been dreading. “Not just any woman.”  
His friend approached him and went to lean against the car next to John. When he didn't speak or ask John simply went on to tell him. There was no reason to keep it a secret any longer. He might as well tell Jack.  
“I've fallen in love with her. She would have turned your head, too, Jack, I swear. She's amazing. Brave and bossy and intelligent. And she's so pretty. She's the sort of woman I could spend my life with.”  
“What happened?” Jack asked him sincerely.  
John inhaled deeply and stared off into the distance. “I screwed up, of course. And now I can't find her. I don't have her address or her last name. I came here because she used to work here, that's where we met, but the owner wouldn't tell me a thing.”  
Jack snorted. “Yeah, well, I can slightly see why. If you walked into my diner like that I wouldn't necessarily give you the details about my employees either.”  
“Right, just rub it in,” John remarked.  
“So, that's why you've been brooding in your room all the time? Because of a woman?”  
“It's pathetic, I know,” he sighed. “But for the first time in years I'm actually in love. And it hurts like hell.”  
Out of the corner of his eye John could see that Jack was watching him closely. “What are you gonna do?”  
John shrugged. “No idea. The diner was my last chance, I suppose the owner was right. She has my name. If she wants to talk, she'll call or write. But I doubt she will.”

Suddenly Jack gave him a soft nudge. “Hey, wanna have a little jam session tonight? Just the two of us?” he asked, smiling at him. “Might be a nice change from getting pissed.”  
Finally John managed to crack a smile. “That sounds like a great plan actually. I have a few ideas for some new songs.”  
“Awesome,” Jack beamed at him. “Let's go home.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, babes :)  
> Ugh, John and Clara are infuriating, aren't they? How could they possibly meet again. . .

Clara walked through the old-fashioned, almost Victorian looking house and was hardly able to close her mouth. She just couldn't believe that the owners would rent out the room at such an affordable price. It was a gorgeous house in the heart of London. There just had to be a catch.  
“Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the building? Mould? Termites?” Clara asked carefully as she followed the two women downstairs. Vastra and Jenny seemed nice, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The room was too cheap.  
“No, nothing,” Vastra replied when she came to a halt in front of the stairs. “We've only recently dropped the price after the last tenant moved out.”  
Jenny cleared her throat next to her. “Don't you think we should tell her?” she whispered towards Vastra. “Clara doesn't strike me as a judgemental person.”  
“Tell me what?” she demanded to know. “If I move in, I'm fairly certain that I will find out whatever you're hiding, so I would really prefer that you tell me now. Is it termites?”  
Vastra sighed. “We're married.”  
“So?”  
“See,” Jenny said, “I told you she wouldn't mind.”  
Clara frowned at them in response. “Seriously? That's it? You're married?”  
“The last tenant wasn't quite so fond of the idea,” Vastra explained.  
“Yes, but to be fair, he also voted for the Conservatives,” Jenny added.  
Clara couldn't help but laugh. “Really, if that's all, I will take the room. I really don't mind. I'm all for gay marriage. Didn't even vote for the Conservatives.”  
Yet Vastra and Jenny hesitated for a moment and it made her wary. Apparently that wasn't all, but Clara was determined to find out.  
“Well,” Vastra hesitated, shuffling her feet. “We have a hobby that might seem strange to other people.”  
“Alright,” she breathed. “Which is?”  
Jenny smiled at her. “We like to dress up in Victorian clothing and pretend it's still the 1890s. It's just a hobby though. We're not crazy. Just a bit eccentric.”  
Clara shrugged. At least it explained some of their décor. “I suppose I can live with that. I mean, I can still wear my own clothes, right?”  
“Oh, absolutely,” Jenny reassured her. “Unless you'd like to join us. You can borrow one of my dresses.”  
“I'm good, thanks,” she replied. “So, that's it?”  
“Well,” Vastra paused. “There's still the matter of the other housemate. Strax.”  
“What about him?” Clara asked curiously, wondering whether their long list of eccentricities would end at some point. And if they felt the need to mention the other tenant Clara was sure that there had to be reason. A gay couple and a strange hobby surely couldn't be the reason the room was so cheap.  
“Strax is our friend and he's. . . a bit different,” Vastra went on.  
“He served in Iraq and I'm afraid he's never been the same after that, but he's completely harmless. If he says he would like to melt you with acid, what he really means is that he likes you. He's never actually been violent. And don't believe the stories he tells you about the war because in reality he was a nurse,” Jenny explained and put on a friendly smile. “So, when do you want to move in?”

Clara considered her answer for a moment. The house was lovely and the room was cheap. It was just a 10 minute walk from the diner where she had signed her new work contract just this morning. As for her potential flatmates, they really seemed a bit eccentric, but Clara thought that it was nothing she couldn't handle. And she really needed a place to stay if she didn't want to occupy Donna's sofa forever. This place seemed like a good start.  
“I could get my things tonight?” Clara suggested hopefully.  
Both Vastra and Jenny smiled at her in response, visibly relieved that they had finally found a tenant for the empty room.  
“Lovely,” Jenny exclaimed. “I'll cook us a nice meal to celebrate you moving in.”  
“Oh, please, you really don't have to go through the trouble,” Clara said.  
“We want to,” Vastra reassured her. “It's been too long since we've all eaten together.”  
Clara smiled in reply. “Alright then. See you tonight.”

When Clara stepped out of the building she felt happy and reassured that the pieces of her life were slowly falling back into place. True, she still didn't feel like going back to teaching, but at least she had a new job as a waitress and a place to stay other than on her friend's sofa. Things could only get better from here. In a few months she might be able to afford a place of her own, she might even feel differently about ringing up Coal Hill, but Clara decided to do it step by step. For now she was content. She was moving on and eventually she would even forget about John.

“I've found a place to stay!” Clara announced as she stepped into Donna's flat.  
“With you in a moment!” came Donna's voice from the bedroom and Clara walked further into the flat and dropped her bag next to the coffee table.  
That was when she spotted the little note lying between the remote and a glass of water. She recognized the name before she had even picked it up.  
“So, where are you gonna live?” her friend enquired, but in response Clara simply held up the note.  
“What is this?” she demanded to know.  
Donna sighed. “I've looked up the Doctor's fanmail address online. I think you should write to him.”  
“And I think it's none of your business!” Clara replied angrily. The whole day had gone so well and between job interviews and looking for a place to live she had hardly thought about him at all. Clara didn't need this sort of reminder and she certainly didn't need this sort of temptation.  
Of course she could write him and Clara believed that if he still remembered her John would be glad to hear from her. But it wouldn't lead anywhere. They would meet up, have sex, her feelings would grow until the day he decided that he was tired of their affair. Then he would move on to the next girl and leave her with a broken heart. If John didn't remember her, Clara would make a fool of herself and she didn't like either scenario.  
“You said it yourself,” Donna argued. “You're in love with him.”  
“Yes and I've also said that I don't want to see him again,” Clara replied defensively and crumpled up the note in her hand before she threw it back on the table. She sighed. “I should probably pack my stuff and pick up a few things from storage.”  
Donna granted her a soft smile. “You know you're more than welcome to stay, right?”  
“That's sweet,” Clara replied sincerely. “But I can hardly sleep on your sofa forever. I've found a nice room and I'll be staying with a gay couple. We'll probably bitch about men all day, which is exactly what I need right now.”  
With a sigh her friend nodded before she outstretched her arms. “Fine, but at least let me give you a hug.”  
Clara smiled at her in response. “A hug sounds great.”  
She stepped forward and straight into Donna's embrace, squeezing her friend tightly. “I'm gonna miss our daily chats.”  
“Well, there's always the telephone,” Donna replied.  
“True,” Clara sighed.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for you sweet comments, guys :) I promise, they WILL meet again!

John couldn't say how long he had been playing Clara's song on the guitar, but while his fingers were playing his mind was elsewhere. For some reason it was back in Norway, the night they had almost kissed. Clara had danced in front of him in the summer heat and he had pulled her down on his lap. Oh, the temptation to kiss her had been so strong up until the moment their chair had collapsed. When John closed his eyes he could still see her beautiful face and hear the sound of her laughter. They had been so happy.  
A knock on the door interrupted his train of thoughts and John stopped playing to look up and to his surprise it was Amy who entered.  
“My laptop is broken,” she explained coldly. “Could I borrow yours?”  
For a brief moment John had thought she wanted to talk, but apparently that wasn't the case. After confessing to Jack what had happened in Norway he had written Amy a letter and left it in front of her room. He hadn't mentioned Norway, but he had apologized for leaving, for the pain he had caused her, for the things he had said to her at the bar. He had also told her that he was happy for her because of the baby and that he understood why she had to leave the band. John knew that she had read it days ago, but she hadn't mentioned it with a single word.  
“It's on the desk,” John replied, nodding towards it, before his voice took on a more panicked tone. “But don't look at my browser history!”  
Amy took him by surprise when she chuckled as she made her way across the room. “Don't worry. I'm not interested in what sort of porn you watch, trust me.”  
Except that it wasn't porn that John really didn't want Amy to see. He had spent quite a large amount of time on Facebook searching for Clara. Yet his search had been without success since all the information he had was her first name and a city. When Amy picked up the laptop and walked back towards the door John assumed that their conversation was over and instead decided to focus on perfecting Clara's song when suddenly he heard her voice again.

“Who is she?”  
When John looked up he saw that Amy had turned his laptop towards him and his eyes fell on the desktop background, which was the selfie they had taken in front of the cairn sign. There was no anger or resentment on Amy's face any longer and with a sigh John put the guitar down.  
“That's Clara,” he explained, his voice heavy.  
Amy turned the laptop back around and smiled at the photograph. Why was she smiling? “You look happy,” she remarked.  
“I frown at the camera.”  
His friend raised her head again and shrugged. “Your face is frowning. Your eyes aren't,” she replied with a shrug. Then she hesitated. “Do you want to tell me about Norway?”  
For a brief moment John's heart leapt with joy at the prospect of finally being able to talk to Amy. He had missed her so much over the past few weeks, he had missed her voice and her advice, but he could already feel his heart being ripped apart yet again when he thought about Clara.  
John buried his face in his hands and a moment later he felt the mattress sink next to him where Amy sat down. When he felt Amy's hand on his shoulder John started to tell her all about it. How he had fought with Jack, ended up in a diner and run away with a woman, how he had fallen madly in love with her and screwed everything up by lying. John also told Amy about his attempts to find her that had so far been entirely fruitless and it felt good to finally get it off his chest, to finally have his best friend to talk to.  
At the end of it Amy sighed heavily. “Doctor, you're such an idiot,” she complained and gave him a soft whack across the back of his head.  
“Ow!” he yelped. “I know that, okay? I know I shouldn't have lied to her. I just didn't think she would come with me if she knew everything. And I think that I wanted to forget who I was for a while. I just wanted to be an ordinary man, not the rockstar. That's why I chose Norway. So people wouldn't recognize me.”  
Amy flipped through some of the photos of their trip and stopped at the one showing Clara at the fjord. “She's really pretty,” she remarked.  
“God, she is,” John sighed and he noticed that Amy turned her head to look at him.  
“You're really in love, aren't you?”  
Slowly he nodded and stared at her for a long moment. John hadn't really noticed it before because Amy had left the room whenever he had walked in, but now he could clearly see that the pregnancy agreed with her. Amy seemed more beautiful than she usually was and her face was positively radiant. “I've missed you,” he confessed. “I know it wasn't right to just take off. I should have at least left a note.”  
“Yes, you really should have,” Amy agreed, frowning slightly before she lowered her gaze. “I thought I had lost you. I thought I would never see you again and the worst part was that we didn't even know for sure. The thought of you lying somewhere on the bottom of the sea, it was driving me mad. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I just wanted you back with me, even if it was in a coffin.”  
“I'm so sorry, Amy,” he apologized once more. “I thought about calling, especially on your birthday, but I didn't have my phone. And what I said to you at the bar was absolutely out of line. I know that you were right. I was selfish. I did try to come between you and Rory because I was afraid you'd leave the band, leave me if things got serious. I didn't notice that my behaviour was driving you away. I'm an idiot.”  
“Yes, you are because you left right after I had announced my pregnancy. You didn't even stick around to hear the rest,” Amy replied in an accusatory tone. “Rory and I had agreed to stay for at least another album, despite the baby.”  
John frowned at her, not entirely sure if he was hearing her correctly. Did Amy just say that she would stick around?  
“There's still the spare room next to ours and I'm sure it could work for the first few years as long as you keep the noise to a minimum,” she explained. “And the baby's two uncles would always be around to babysit.”  
“Are you serious?”  
Amy nodded, smiling at him, and she uttered a surprised squealing sound when John flung his arms around her in a tight hug.  
“Easy there,” Amy chuckled, closing her arms around his neck in return. “You're squeezing baby.”  
“Sorry,” John uttered and when he let her go he just wasn't able to hide the smile on his face. This was the first good news he had received in months and all of a sudden his life didn't seem so bad any more. Amy and Rory were staying. She had forgiven him. Now, if only Clara could do the same thing. . .

Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his thigh where Amy slapped him enthusiastically. “Now we're just gonna have to figure your love life out,” she remarked.  
John granted her a sad smile. “I doubt it's gonna be that easy. I have no idea how to find her. I've been thinking about this for three weeks and I just don't know. I don't have her address or her last name. I've tried to look her up on Facebook, but do you have any idea how many Claras there are in the UK?”  
“Yes, but all of this is you going to her. How about we make her come to you?” Amy suggested.  
He scoffed. “I believe that if she wanted to talk to me she would have contacted me already.”  
“Tell me, that song you've been playing for the last three weeks that is seriously starting to get in my nerves,” she said. “Did you write that for her?”  
“Yes,” John replied reluctantly.  
“And does she know it?”  
He shrugged. “Yes, well, I've played it to her in Norway, but- ow!”  
John broke off when Amy slapped his thigh again. Was it just him impression or was the pregnancy giving her super strength?  
“First, there are a couple of things we need to take care of. You need to stop drinking so much,” his friend determined.  
John opened his mouth to reply, but Amy didn't let him.  
“No buts. You're gonna need those brain cells to write the next album and Clara would surely not appreciate you in the state you've been in these past three weeks. Second, the beard needs to go.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes, really. It makes you look like a homeless person, which brings me straight to point three.”  
“Not the plaid trousers, please,” John begged her.  
“Oh yes, they need to go as well,” his friend told him.  
With a sigh John leaned back against the wall and a few moments later he could feel Amy's head on his shoulder as she joined him.  
“Don't worry, Doctor,” she told him calmly. “We're gonna do what we can to get your Clara back.”  
He turned his head and smiled at Amy. John had no idea how she did it, but after talking to Amy he seemed a little less hopeless. She had forgiven him. Maybe, with a bit of luck, he would also find Clara.  
“Did I mention that I've missed you?” he asked.  
Amy raised her head and smiled at him in return. “I've missed you, too.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments!!! Finally John and Amy are friends again. But what about Clara?

Clara was scrubbing the surface of the counter aggressively just because it gave her a chance to vent her anger and right now she was extremely glad that no customer had come in in a while. The last ones had been a bunch of rude teenagers that had left their rubbish all over the place and if they had been her students Clara would have given them one hell of a lecture for that sort of behaviour. But as it was she was just a waitress and not in the position to teach them anything. It was at times like these that Clara somehow missed Coal Hill school, but she wasn't yet ready to go back to her old life, not entirely, and she wasn't sure if she would ever be. Teaching, Danny, her London flat – all of that had been part of a completely normal life and it had broken her heart when it had shattered to pieces. On the other hand, leading a vagabond life, travelling with John, that had also broken her heart. Clara just didn't know how to go on from here and as long as she didn't know she might as well stay in the diner.  
It had only been a month and a part of her was hoping that it would get better, but at least her living situation had already improved a lot. Living with Donna had been nice, but crammed. Her room at Vastra's and Jenny's house, however, was amazing. It was bright and spacious and Clara couldn't have asked for better company. Vastra and Jenny were kind and friendly towards her and they had even managed to talk Clara into dressing up in one of their Victorian gowns. Even though she had found it hard to admit at first, Clara had somehow enjoyed it more than she would have thought. Her other housemate, Strax, was quite an odd fellow but once she had gotten used to his threats Clara had found a way to laugh about it. 

To take her mind off the rude teenagers and the cleaning that still needed to be done Clara turned up the volume of the radio that was playing one of her favourite songs and set out to polish some glasses when the door to the diner suddenly swung open and her friend Donna entered.  
“I need a big ass cappuccino,” her friend announced as she plopped down on one of the chairs at the counter.  
Clara smiled at her. “One big ass cappuccino coming right up,” she replied and reached for the nearest coffee cup.  
“Seriously, work was crazy today,” Donna complained. “The school nurse called in sick and since I'm one of the few people with first aid training I had to patch up a group of boys that had gotten into a fight. And the worst part of it was Adrian's bleeding nose.”  
“Adrian?” she enquired curiously. “What's he got to do with that?”  
Donna sighed. “He tried to break up the fight, the boys didn't notice, one elbow of Jeremy Jenkins hit one nose of Adrian.”  
“Ouch,” Clara hissed in response. “I bet the kid is gonna be in real trouble on Monday.”  
“You bet,” her friend remarked and straightened her back on the chair. “So, what are you doing tonight?”  
She smiled at her friend. “Vastra and Jenny are hosting a Victorian dinner for a few friends and they told me I could bring someone, so you can come along if you like.”  
Donna wrinkled her nose. “I don't own any Victorian clothes unfortunately.”  
“Oh, that's fine. You could borrow one of Vastra's dresses. I have to use Jenny's wardrobe as well. Come on,” Clara almost begged her as she shoved the cappuccino across the counter. “It's gonna be fun. And that way you can finally meet them properly. They're both really nice.”  
“Alright,” Donna agreed eventually and Clara could tell that there was more to come, but the radio interrupted her with an announcement.

At first Clara didn't even know why, but she turned her head to listen to the radio presenter and all of a sudden her knees grew a little week. They shouldn't, but they did. Why was it that even over a month later the simple mention of his name could stir up her old feelings?  
“And now we're back in our London studio with a special guest who would like to tell you a few things about a brand new album. Doctor, how are you?” the presenter asked him.  
When he chuckled it felt as if Clara's heart skipped a beat and his voice could still make her shiver even through the radio. Why couldn't she just forget about him? And why couldn't she take a step forward and switch that damn radio off?  
“I'm a bit tired, but your coffee here is really good,” John replied, still chuckling. “So thanks to that for keeping me awake.”  
“Am I that boring?”  
“No, not at all. But, see, I've been working on finalising the new album and I'm afraid it got a little late last night. Or early. Depending on how you see it.”  
She should just switch it off. Clara knew that listening to him would only make things worse, it would undo the progress she had made in forgetting about him. But she couldn't. She was curious.  
“Can you tell our listeners a little about that new album?” the presenter asked him.  
“Oh, it's quite good, I think,” John laughed. “It's a bit different than what we've done in the past few years. It's a bit. . . back to the roots, if you know what a mean. A little more romantic than the previous ones.”  
“And you've thought of a nice way to promote it that I think will appeal to a lot of fans.”  
“Yes,” John agreed. He sounded so enthusiastic. “We're gonna give a concert completely for free, right here in London three weeks from today. And I'm hoping that a lot of people will show up to listen to our work.”  
Clara couldn't help but frown a little at his last response. A free concert sounded like an odd way to promote a new album, especially for a band already famous. Even with unknown songs he could earn loads of money from a concert.  
“That sounds like a great idea,” the presenter replied. “And I've heard that you've brought us one of your new songs that we're gonna play in just a moment. What can you tell us about that?”  
John hesitated for just a moment too long and it made Clara even warier. Something about it seemed off, she could tell.  
“I'm afraid I can't tell you much about it, but I'm hoping that people will hear it and that they'll love it and decide to come to the concert,” he replied, followed by a shy, almost insecure laugh.  
“Alright, Doctor. Thank you so much for coming here today, thank you for bringing your latest song and I can already tell you that I will definitely be attending a concert in three weeks.”  
“Thank you for having me here,” John said in response.  
“And now, let's have a listen to the Doctor's brand new song: _Clara_.”

When the first notes of a familiar melody started to ring through her ears Clara thought that she was frozen on the spot. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She had no idea what to make of it at all.  
“So,” Donna finally spoke again, “are you going?”  
“What?” Clara shot around, staring at her friend. The Doctor's voice in the background was still distracting her too much to think properly. She reached for the radio and turned it off for good. “Going where?”  
“The concert, of course. I mean, he invited you.”  
Clara gave a nervous laugh. “He certainly didn't.”  
“Oh yes, he did,” Donna insisted. “He said he's hoping people will listen to it and love it and come to the concert. Right before they played a song called Clara. By people he meant _you_.”  
“He did not invite me, okay?” Clara raised her voice in response. She couldn't go to his concert. It was most likely the worst idea ever and it would not help her get over him. If she went Clara wasn't sure she could keep up the grudge she had been holding for over a month. She had had to remind herself that it would end in a broken heart, no matter what. And John certainly hadn't meant her. He had most likely forgotten about her altogether.  
“He's just making money off my song!” Clara tried to reason with her friend as Donna raised her eyebrows doubtfully.  
“Make money with a free concert?”  
“After which he's gonna sell loads of CDs,” she argued. It was time to change the topic before Clara could make a stupid decision that she was definitely going to regret later. “So, you're coming tonight?”  
Donna sighed in response, but Clara was determined not to let her bring up the topic ever again. She shouldn't go to the concert. She really shouldn't.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!!! Now, will Clara go to the concert or not?

John pushed the heap of letters further away and slumped down in his seat until his forehead hit the table with a thud. He had been reading his fanmail for hours and found nothing at all.  
“Again nothing?” Amy asked sympathetically and John heard a clang of ceramic when she set a mug down next to his head.  
He looked up and smelled the coffee.  
“Thanks,” he replied and took a sip from the hot brew. “And no, nothing. Clara hasn't written me.”  
“Maybe she just hasn't heard the song yet,” his friend suggested and John shot her a dark look in response. He liked that Amy was still hopeful and trying to cheer him up, but maybe it was time to face the truth. Clara just didn't want to contact him. She didn't want to see him ever again.  
“It's sweet that you're trying to cheer me up,” he replied, “but every major radio station has been playing the song up and down for the past two weeks, they're making a really big thing out of the free concert. There's just no way that Clara hasn't heard the song yet. Let's face it. She doesn't wanna see me again.”  
“You don't know that,” Amy told him calmly. “Just give it some time. You can't give up now, Doctor. In all those years that I've known you you've slept with more women than I can count and for once you're actually in love. We're gonna find her, I promise.”  
John smiled at her in reply, but he wasn't as convinced as Amy. Yet she was right. He shouldn't give up now, a week before the concert. Instead John reached for his phone and dialled Missy's number.  
“Wow, what an honour,” his manager's sarcastic voice rang through the phone when she picked up. “The mighty Doctor calling his mortal manager. What can I do for you?”  
John sighed. “I was just wondering if that's really all the fanmail I've received in the the last week. They haven't missed anything?” he asked hopefully.  
“Nope, that's all. Why?” Missy sounded suspicious rather than curious. “Why are you so interested in your fanmail all of a sudden? You've had them send back the same autograph for the past 15 years. Seriously, you can't possibly reply to all.”  
“I just wanted to know what sort of stuff they write me, you know,” he lied. He could tell his friend about Clara, but not Missy. She would laugh at him and tell him to make money with the sappy love story.  
“Most of it is filth or love letters, the rest just your regular fan crap.” Even through the phone John could tell that Missy was rolling her eyes.  
“It's not crap. Most are really nice,” he replied. They were nice, but they weren't what he had hoped for. “Anyway, thanks. I'll see you in a week.”  
“Yeah, for your other stupid idea. A free concert. Why not hand out free CDs to go with it?”  
“Bye, Missy,” John sighed and hung up.  
“Still nothing?” Amy enquired.  
John simply shook his head. He so wanted to cling to the last bit of hope that was beginning to slip through his fingers. If the song didn't bring Clara back to him, there was nothing that would.

John was about to reach for a bunch of letters to clean them up when Amy sudden slapped his hand away.  
“Okay, enough of that for today”, she said determinedly. “You need to take your mind off Clara for a bit or else you'll start moping again.”  
John glared at her. “And how do you suggest I do that?”  
“ _We_ are gonna go shopping,” Amy announced.  
He raised his eyebrows at her. “You know, that's usually not something men like to do to take their mind off something.”  
“I know, but I still need new trousers because baby is starting to make me fat,” she explained. “And you need a new outfit for the concert next week. If Clara shows up you wanna look dapper, right?”  
_If_ she shows up.  
“Will you stop referring to your child as _baby_ once it's born?” John asked her.  
Amy shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “Now, come on, let's go and find you a dashing, new outfit. You know, I'm thinking velvet.”  
“I'm thinking that sounds really warm for the stage,” he argued, but when Amy turned around and reached for her purse John knew that he didn't stand a chance and if he was completely honest, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to protest. He had missed Amy so much and John was so glad to have her back that he would even accompany her on a shopping trip. Amy probably knew that.

* * *

“That's a really fancy dress,” Donna remarked, nodding towards the red, low cut dress that was currently hanging on her wardrobe door.  
“Thanks,” Clara replied absent-mindedly while she was finishing her nail polish. They had agreed to go out with Vastra and Jenny and her friend had showed up way too early.  
“So,” Donna hummed as she sank down on the bed next to Clara, “is there a specific reason it's hanging there?”  
“No,” she lied. “Should there be?”  
“Yes, because that's totally a date dress and you're not wearing it. Do you have a date?” her friend enquired curiously.  
“It was just one of the options for tonight that I ended up not choosing,” Clara told her. It was an outright lie, but she couldn't tell Donna what was really going on in her mind because her friend would be ecstatic and she would try to influence her decision.  
In fact, Clara had chosen the red dress to wear for the concert – which she hadn't yet decided to attend. There was still a week to make up her mind.  
As if on cue Donna went on to ask the question Clara had been dreading. “So, are you going to the concert next week?”  
“Absolutely not,” Clara said in reply and decided to pay some more attention to her fingernails just so she wouldn't have to look at her friend. If she did Donna would know that she was lying.  
“Well, I think you should,” her friend said.  
“I still think it's none of your business.”

It would be a really bad idea to go. All of her old feelings would come right back up and it would take her even longer to finally get over him, yet Clara had been curious. She had listened to the song he had written for her, she had listened to the lyrics and she could no longer deny that he remembered her. The song was about her from start to finish.  
“Have you listened to the song at least?” Donna wanted to know.  
With a sigh Clara nodded. “It can hardly be avoided. The radio is playing it around the clock,” she replied. “It's a good song though.”  
“It's _your_ song.”  
Clara lifted her head and glowered at her friend. “It's a song that's gonna make him a lot of money,” she spat.  
Maybe she should bury the idea of going to the concert. Clara had the feelings that something bad would happen if she went.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comment!!!!!! *hug*

Clara had no idea what she was even doing here because it was a really, really bad idea and she had known it from the beginning. She had known it when she had first heard about the concert, she had known it when she had picked out her dress, she had known it when she had applied her make up and when she had taken the tube to the location. But here she was in her red dress and high heels, queuing up to the entrance to the concert hall.  
“Oh God, I'm so nervous,” the woman in the queue behind her uttered and Clara turned around to look at her. She seemed young, barely even 20. Clara granted her a sympathetic smile. “I couldn't normally afford the Doctor's concert tickets. I'm so glad he's doing this for free. I've loved him since I was a kid.”  
“Well, it's nice of him to do this,” Clara replied even though she still didn't quite understand why he was doing it at all. Charity concerts, yes, but not free concerts.  
The security guards searched her at the door and took an awfully long time to look through her small purse, but eventually she was asked to move on to the next security guard that was holding up a list.  
“Could I ask for your name and age, please?” he enquired in a friendly manner.  
Clara frowned at the man in response. “Why?”  
The man shrugged. “Just statistics. Trying to figure out what kind of audience we have tonight.”  
“Alright,” Clara sighed, “Name is Clara and the age is 29.”  
The security guard wrote down her details. “Just gonna need your last name and then you can go through.”  
“Why? Are you gonna put my full name in your statistics?”  
The man looked at her as if he had had this conversation about a millions times today. “Please, I'm just trying to do my job here and you're holding everything up.”  
“Fine,” she breathed. “It's Oswald. Clara Oswald. Can I go through now?”  
He smiled at her and stepped aside to make way for Clara and finally she was able to enter the concert hall. She had come here early to secure herself a good spot in the front before the hall filled up where she waited next to a group of women around her own age for the show to start.

It took almost an hour before the bustling behind her started to really get on her nerves and Clara could feel the tension grow with every minute that the concert was delayed. But the tension of the audience was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of her. She was going to see John perform tonight and she was so close to the stage that she wouldn't miss a single detail. Clara wasn't ready. It had been almost two months since their trip, two months in which she hadn't been able to forget him. What she had completely forgotten, however, was the anger she had felt towards him and that wasn't good. She had so wanted to hold on to it so she wouldn't be tempted to do anything stupid, but right now Clara just couldn't bring herself to still be angry at him.  
Then the entire place went dark and a strange silence fell over the audience that was only interrupted by murmurs. Clara heard the sound of a smoke machine before a guitar riff rang through the air. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly contain her excitement. John was right in front of her and in just a few moments she would finally see him again. A single spotlight was switched on and Clara's mouth almost fell open.  
The light was shining through his tousled hair, making it seem even more silver than it usually was. The rest of him looked just as stunning as she remembered him, maybe even more so. He wore dark trousers and a waistcoat over a crisp white shirt that he had buttoned up to the collar and on top of it all a dark velvet coat. John's eyes were set on the guitar as his fingers finished the riff and Clara's heart threatened to jump out of her chest when she realized that her attraction towards him hadn't faded in the least. If he offered she would jump right back into his arms despite her better judgement.  
She hadn't even noticed that the lights above the audience had come back on until the song suddenly stopped and she found that John was holding her gaze. No, he hadn't seen her, had he? He couldn't possibly see her down here.  
The song died out and John closed his hand around the guitar's neck to silence the last note while his eyes remained focused on her. He never looked away, not even for a second, not even as he slowly set his guitar down and started making his way towards the edge of the stage. Oh God, he had seen her.

Clara had no idea what was going on or why no one was stopping him as he crouched down and eventually jumped off the stage and right into the crowd. What the hell was he even doing? Clara craned her neck, but she was too small and couldn't see him over the heads in front of her, yet as the people around her started to scream and utter sounds of awe she knew that something was happening. She just didn't know what and it was starting to become a little unnerving. John was an idiot and he was mad and there was no telling what he was going to do. Then the crowd parted and John came to a halt right in front of her.

She had no idea what to do, what to say, not even in her wildest dreams had Clara imagined that this might happen and now all she could do was to stand there and gawk at him. One thing was certain: her knees were far too weak to make a run for it.  
Then finally John seemed to have regained his ability to speak and his lips formed into a smile. “Hello Clara,” he whispered, but the audience had gone so quiet that she could hear even his lowered voice.  
“How did you know I was here?” she asked him. Clara was still too baffled to form a coherent thought. “Did you see me?”  
“When do I not see you?” John asked. His eyes didn't leave her for a second as if he was afraid she would vanish if he just so much as blinked.  
“What?” Clara laughed nervously. “One face in all of that crowd?”  
He frowned in response. “There was a crowd, too?”  
Before Clara could say anything else she felt John's arm around her waist as he pulled her towards him and she landed right against his chest. He bent down slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she liked, but Clara had no intention to do so. Her knees were weak, her entire body was trembling and the butterflies were running haywire in her stomach when their lips touched because she was love with him no matter how much she had been trying to tell herself to forget about John. He parted his lips as soon as he was sure that Clara wanted to be kissed and right now all she wanted was for him not to stop. Two months of trying to get over him were undone in a second when their kiss deepened and she found herself wanting him again. She wanted his touch, she wanted his kisses, she wanted the way he could make her laugh and forget about all of her worries. If he took her hand right now and pulled her out of the concert hall into the motorhome they had shared to run away once more Clara wouldn't hesitate to follow him. John was one of the sweetest men she had ever met and she doubted that anyone could resist him for long.  
Clara gasped for air when he finally pulled away and she was only now becoming aware of the fact that the audience was cheering around them. She giggled when John beamed at her. Clara didn't think she had ever seen him so happy.  
“I have to go on stage now,” he said softly. “I think they're expecting a concert.”  
“I think so, too,” she chuckled.  
John took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it while his eyes remained on her face. “Meet me in the backstage area afterwards,” he told her. “The security guards will let you through.”  
All of a sudden Clara felt hesitant. If she went backstage there was only one thing that could happen. They would start to kiss and they would end up having sex. She hadn't come here for that. But what had she come here for?  
A few security guards were pushing their way through the crowd and eventually stopped right next to John. They had come to take him back to the stage and apparently John had come to the same conclusion.  
“Please. I want to talk to you,” John said sincerely as he gave her a pleading look that told Clara he would never leave this spot or let go of her hand unless she agreed.  
Slowly she nodded.  
John bent forward once more and pecked her on the lips. He gave her one last, broad smile before he let the security guards lead him away and Clara was left in the middle of the cheering crowd with legs that felt like jelly and a heartbeat that just wouldn't calm down.  
“Wow, how did you do that?”  
Clara turned around and spotted the girl she had already talked to at the entrance and she was gawking at her in awe.  
Clara giggled in response. “I have no idea,” she replied truthfully and turned back towards the stage when the concert finally started.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your sweet comments *hugs* I knew you'd like the TMA reference :D

Clara was pacing the small changing room in the backstage area and a part of her was still considering to leave. Coming to the concert had been a bad idea, she kept telling herself that. Yet when John had spotted her in the crowd and kissed her in front of everyone else Clara had thought that her heart might explode from sheer joy. She was in love with him even though she shouldn't be, even though she had told herself not to fall for him, but there was no denying it any longer.  
But what would happen now? He would come back, they would rekindle their affair, but what then? What did John have in mind? Clara didn't want to fall deeper just to have John discard her for the next fling. Maybe it would really be better to just leave and forget about everything that had happened tonight.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted when suddenly the door swung open and Clara spun around on her heels to see John enter the room. He looked exhausted, but nevertheless he wore a bright smile on his face when he saw her. His hair seemed even wilder now than it had earlier and from up close she noticed just how much the waistcoat and velvet jacket suited him. Clara had to resist the urge to just run up to him and pretend that the past two months had never happened.  
John beamed at her and for the longest moment he didn't say a word. Clara smiled at him in return, unable to hide the fact that she was insanely happy to see him. All the resentment, all the anger, it had vanished into thin air as if she had never felt any of it.  
Clara was the first to regain her speech. “You were amazing out there,” she chuckled. And he had been, oh, he had stunned the whole audience.  
John didn't reply, instead he stepped forward and before Clara knew what was happening he had wrapped his arms around her and twirled her around the room in a spinning hug. She squealed in surprise while her fingers clung to the velvet of his jacket and he pressed her so tightly against him that for a moment Clara couldn't breathe. Then, after a long moment, John set her down and smiled at her. There was something about his face right now, this expression of pure joy mixed with sheer exhaustion.  
“Hello,” John breathed.  
Clara giggled. “Hi.”  
He bent down and kissed her again, more passionately, more desperately than he had before the concert, their lips locked tightly and it robbed her of her breath.  
He panted when he eventually pulled away, but his arms were still holding her in place, pressing her against his chest. “I'm so glad you came,” he uttered and it seemed as if he would never stop smiling tonight. He was really happy. “I didn't know how else to find you. I didn't know your name or where you lived. I was hoping you'd hear the song.”  
“Wait,” Clara frowned at him in response and finally pulled out of the embrace. “This wasn't for me, was it?”  
John reached for her hand. It was like he didn't want to stop touching her even for a second. “I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to see you again,” he said with a laugh. “It worked.”  
Clara was speechless. She had suspected that there had to be a reason for this concert, a reason he had promoted it the way he had, but she never would have guessed that she was the reason. That it had been a mission to find her. Clara really didn't know what to think about it.  
“Please, will you come home with me?” John asked her and she felt him squeeze her hand. “I want to talk to you. I-”  
He broke off and hesitated for a while. “I'm exhausted. I. . . I'm so glad to see you again, I don't want you to leave.”  
Clara had known that it would be a bad idea to come here, but despite her better judgement she found herself nodding in reply. She had missed him, too. Right now a broken heart seemed like a fair price to pay just to have him back for a night.

John led her out of the back of the building, past several security guards and eventually into the back of a spacious car that proceeded to drive them out of the city centre. Clara could tell that he was dead tired by the way his movements and speech were slowing down more and more during the ride home, but still he told her about the house he would take her to that he shared with the rest of the band. Amy, his best friend, who had eventually forgiven him for accidentally faking his death and who played the keyboard in their band. Rory, her husband, the bass player. And Jack, his oldest friend and long time drummer of the band. Clara didn't recognize their names and she hadn't actually paid any attention to them at all while they had been on stage, not when she had been so focused on John and still so shaken by the kiss he had given her.  
The house was still empty when they arrived and John reasoned that they had probably gone out to celebrate the gig afterwards while he led her upstairs to his bedroom and Clara watched him sink back against the door with a sigh when they were finally inside. With a nervous laugh she sat down on his bed while he was still watching her intently.  
“So, uhm, what do you wanna do?” she asked him. “Sit down? Relax? Have a drink?”  
John inhaled sharply as he pushed himself away from the door and it seemed to take up all of his strength. “Uhm, I'm actually trying to cut down on that,” he replied.  
“Good choice,” Clara remarked and she watched as he took off his velvet coat and placed it neatly on the nearest chair. “That outfit was also a good choice. I like it.”  
John smiled and started to approach the bed. “That was Amy's idea,” he replied and sat down next to her. “The whole thing actually. The concert and all of that.”  
“She's smart,” Clara said with a shrug. It had worked. Clara had fallen for the trick and now here she was.  
“A lot smarter than me,” John agreed and he turned his head to look at her. The lines on his face seemed to have deepened in the past two months. Then he sighed heavily. “I'm sorry. You're finally here and I'm so exhausted that I can hardly talk.”  
“It's alright,” she reassured him with a smile and reached out to hold his hand. She was glad to be here no matter what, even if she was going to regret it later.  
“Would you like to stay over night?” he asked hopefully and Clara didn't know how she could possibly say no to the look he was giving her.  
She smiled at him in response. “Well, I'm here now. Would be silly to leave when I only just got here.”  
John laughed and she thought that the relief was visible on his face when he did. “You look gorgeous tonight, do you know that?”  
Clara chuckled. “Let's just go to sleep, okay?”

When John nodded Clara rose from the bed and unzipped her dress before she discarded it on the floor. He looked surprised at first, but there was no way she would go to sleep in that tight thing and after a moment John seemed to have understood and raised his hands to his waistcoat.  
“Let me,” Clara interrupted him softly and reached out to help him out of the waistcoat.  
John uttered a laugh in reply. “You know, I said I was tired, but I can still undress without help.”  
“Shush,” she hushed him and then looked up at him and smiled.  
“You know, I've missed being bossed around. I've missed that quite a lot.”  
Once Clara had helped him get rid of his clothes John sank down on the bed and held up the duvet as a sign for her to join him. She complied instantly and even though she wasn't nearly as exhausted as John after the concert, the events of the day had started to take a toll on her as well and she lay down next to him. John wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as tightly against his body as possible and while he fell asleep in a matter of minutes, Clara was awake for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of just being here with him for now.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments!!!! Now, this might be NSFW ;)

John had been awake for a while, but he was too afraid to move while Clara was still asleep in his arms. Right now he could hardly believe his luck. It had worked. Amy's insane plan had worked and it had brought Clara back to him at last. Two months of missing her, two long months of wondering how she was and whether she would forgive him and now she was lying in his arms and John never wanted to let her go ever again.  
Clara murmured in her sleep and John couldn't contain himself any longer. The warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her that he had missed so much, he couldn't wait for another second. John bent down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He had dreamed about this moment for two months.  
She was only just waking up, but still Clara parted her lips for a long, sloppy kiss while he climbed on top of her. He wanted to feel her skin against his own, feel her body heat, feel as much of her as was possible. Two months was probably the longest he had ever gone without a woman since the beginning of his career and John found himself wanting Clara in every possible way. There was only their underwear left between them and yet it was too much. With their lips still locked John reached behind her back and unhooked her bra and to his relief there was no protest from her. His heart leapt with joy at the thought of her wanting him, of her wanting to continue what they had started in Norway.  
Clara uttered a small sound and eventually he pulled away from her, both of them gasping for air when he did. She smiled at him, but John could hardly focus. He wanted so much to be with her right now.  
“Do you, uhm,” he hesitated, “do you want to?”  
Breathlessly she nodded.  
John beamed at her in reply before he pecked her on the lips once more and then slid further down her body, covering every inch of her skin that he could reach with kisses. He pulled down her bra, discarding it somewhere far away on the floor. Her knickers followed moments later and John bent down between her legs. Clara gasped when his tongue started to taste her and her hands found their way into his hair. She guided him as he lapped at her while his own arousal started to grow inside the confinement of his underpants, throbbing and itching to finally dive inside of her. The sounds she made as he pleasured her were the sweetest he had ever heard in his entirely life and Clara was starting to thrust her hips up to meet him when his tongue delved inside of her, begging him for more.  
John couldn't wait, he couldn't hold back for another second when he withdrew from her and Clara uttered a sound of frustration when he sat back up. Hurriedly he discarded his underpants and reached into the drawer next to the bed for a condom and he breathed a sigh of relief when he found it just where he had expected it.

Impatiently Clara pulled him down on top of her and their lips locked in another, sloppy kiss while his erection rubbed against the dampness of her sex. It was maddening, the desire he felt for her, until finally Clara reached between them and closed her hand around his shaft. John uttered a low moan when she guided him to her entrance and at last he sank into her. He had missed every part of her. Her laugh, her spirit, the way she felt around him that could make him forget about the world and as John started to rock into her and Clara hooked her leg around his arse to guide him, he prayed that he would never have to leave her ever again.  
Clara moaned underneath him, her hands clawing at his back when he sped up his thrusts and the sound seemed to shoot straight to his core. John bent down and kissed her once more. He was so crazy about her, so madly in love and when Clara opened her eyes for a moment to look at him he thought that he could see the same sentiment on her face.  
He flipped them both over and pulled Clara on top of him because that was where he wanted her so she could do whatever the hell she wanted with him. He closed his eyes and imagined they were still in Norway, imagine a place where nothing existed except him and Clara and focused on just how good she felt around him. A moan came over his lips when she drove herself down harder, increasing her speed, driving him right to the edge. As Clara's breath was beginning to come out ragged and her movements became more uncoordinated by the second he knew that she was close, he knew by the whimpering sounds she made as he lifted his hand and brought it down to her clit, rubbing it to her rhythm to make her come because John thought that he couldn't hold back for much longer. John thrust up, panting, as Clara's walls started to tighten around him, but he needed more. Desperately he plunged into her while she was still moaning his name in ecstasy and at last he could feel the pressure build up inside of him until that sweet point of no return when he finally released himself and he sank back into the pillows shortly before Clara collapsed next to him.

The silence that followed was blissful and it was interrupted only by their breathing while his pulse slowly returned back to normal. John's mind was empty for a long, peaceful moment. No rockstar, no band, no heartbreak. Just him and Clara.  
“Good morning,” Clara chuckled after a while and turned around to smile at him. Two months of looking at her photographs and imagining her face and none of it had matched up to how beautiful she really was. Hair tousled, bright eyes, those little dimples in her cheeks when she smiled like this.  
“Good morning,” John replied happily even though it was a lie. It wasn't a good morning. It was the _best_ morning in two agonizingly long months. He had to tell her that. He had to tell her how much she meant to him, how happy he was that she was back, how he would bend the heavens if that was necessary to make her stay.

John opened his mouth, but as the door to his bedroom was suddenly flung open all he could do was to reach for the duvet to cover them both as Jack barged in completely unannounced.  
“Breakfast is- _whoah!_ ” his friend uttered in surprise.  
“Get the fuck out of my bedroom!” John shouted in response.  
“Sorry,” Jack mumbled, but while he was already on his way out he suddenly stopped when his eyes fell on Clara and a frown appeared on his face. “Wait. You-”  
As Jack pointed at Clara John became aware of the looks they exchanged and suddenly he had a bad feeling. A really bad one.  
“Don't we know each other?”  
“The bar,” Clara replied after a moment and she looked mildly shocked, to say the least. “You bought me a drink.”  
“You did _what_?!” John demanded to know. If Jack had touched her. . .  
“Right,” his friend replied as his face lit up. “The drink. I remember. Crazy night, huh?”  
Clara nodded and the bad feeling in his stomach only grew even when Jack finally closed the door behind him.  
John turned around in bed immediately and stared at Clara, but he couldn't read the answer from her face. He knew Jack, but he dearly hoped that he was wrong in his assumption.  
“He bought you a drink?” John asked her, still a little dumbfounded.  
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “About a month ago.”  
“Just a drink?”  
To his surprise Clara started to laugh. “Well, look at you all jealous and possessive,” she chuckled and the amusement was visible in her eyes. “Just a drink, I promise.”  
Still John wasn't entirely happy with the fact that Jack had met Clara and talked to her and bought her a drink and a part of him wanted to smack himself right now for not telling his friend all about Clara or showing him the photos. Maybe if he had, John could have spared himself a month of missing Clara. And if it had been that night he had gone out with Amy and Rory, it meant that he and Clara had been just a few bars apart and he had never noticed. John felt like an idiot yet again.  
To his surprise Clara leaned forward and left a kiss on his cheek. John smiled at her in reply.  
“So, do you want to join the others for breakfast? You can meet Amy and Rory,” he suggested and for the first time in two months his appetite had actually returned. “And I have to admit that I'm kinda hungry.”  
Clara hesitated for a short moment, but eventually nodded in agreement. John smiled broadly at her. There was no way he would ever let her go again.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your beautiful comments :)  
> You think the angst is over? Well. . .

When Clara stepped out of the shower she realized just how hungry she really was, yet when she discarded the towel and reached for her clothes she became also aware that all she had to wear was her very short, red evening dress. Now, after sleeping with John despite knowing better, she would have to do the walk of shame, or rather the _breakfast of shame_ , in front of his friends.  
A knock on the door tore her out of her thought and Clara reached for the towel once more to wrap it around her body before she told John to come inside.  
“You're not ready yet?” he asked and he looked more than a little disappointed.  
Clara chuckled in response. “You won't starve, I promise,” she told him. “I just realized the only thing that I have to wear is my dress.”  
“It's a very pretty dress,” John responded with a shrug. “I mean, obviously not as pretty as the gorgeous woman wearing it, but-”  
“Stop being charming,” Clara told him with a smile as she gave him a soft nudge. “I'll get dressed. Give me two minutes.”

Clara walked back into the bedroom and John was already waiting for her there, wearing an odd smile on his face as he stepped closer. Her gaze dropped to his hands and what he was holding.  
“What is that?” she asked him as he handed it to her and Clara recognized it as a flash drive.  
“It's the photos from our trip. I thought you might wanna have them. And-” he paused and a short moment later John also gave her a note. “And my phone number.”  
He raised his head and looked her straight into the eye while he sighed. “I don't want to lose you again, Clara.”  
Something about these words tugged at her heart and she truly believed that he meant them, at least for the moment. Clara didn't want to lose him again either, but how could they possibly have a future? How could she be sure that their affair wasn't going to rip her heart out of her chest when it was over?  
Clara acted before she had even made up her mind. She tore a small piece from the note and walked towards his desk where she scribbled down her own number before she could change her mind. She left it right on his desk where he could see it and placed the flash drive on top of it.  
“I'll get it after breakfast,” she told him with a smile before they both headed downstairs.

The kitchen was already busy when they stepped inside and Clara recognized Jack, the man that had bought her a drink at a bar. She could hardly believe that she had run into one of John's best friends during their time apart and never known who he was, but then again, Clara had still been confused and angry during that time and she doubted that meeting John again at that point would have ended well. Clara also spotted a young woman with long, red hair and a kind of dorky looking man. They seemed vaguely familiar from the concert, but she hadn't actually paid a lot of attention to the rest of the band.  
“Clara, that's Amy, my best friend,” John introduced them, “and her husband Rory. You've already met Jack.”  
“Nice to meet you,” the man called Rory greeted her politely.  
The woman grinned broadly at her. “The famous Clara, the woman that tamed the Doctor,” she chuckled, her Scottish accent thick.  
“Clara hasn't tamed me,” John grumbled in response as he held out a chair for Clara to sit down before he took a seat next to her.  
“Really?” Amy didn't seem convinced. “I don't recall you looking at another woman since you've met her. And you used to look a lot.”  
“He did a lot more than just look,” Jack laughed and took a large bite off his croissant.  
Once again Clara felt something tug at her heart because for a brief moment she had forgotten who John really was. A rockstar. A womanizer. And yes, she was a little jealous of all the women he had been with because she knew she wouldn't be the last.  
“Please stop embarrassing me,” John mumbled, chewing his toast.  
Amy laughed in response. “If I wanted to embarrass you I'd show Clara the photos of you dancing on the table in my underwear.”  
“You did what?” Clara enquired curiously.  
John glowered at his friend across the table. “That's a lie. I never did that.”  
Amy took another spoonful of yoghurt into her mouth and grinned at him. “You were just too drunk to remember,” she remarked. “Alright, maybe the underwear bit was a lie, but the rest certainly happened.”  
He turned his head to look at Clara and the expression on his face was one of pain. “I have to correct my earlier statement. These are not my friends, especially not that one,” he said, pointing towards Amy.  
“Mean,” she replied.  
“So, erm, anyway,” John said, “that's the band. My friends.”  
“Tell us something about yourself, Clara,” Amy prompted. “This is the first time the Doctor has brought a girl home, we're curious.”  
“Uhm,” Clara paused, unsure of what to tell Amy. And was she really the first the Doctor had brought back home with him? Clara found that hard to believe, especially considering what else his friends said about him. “There isn't actually much to tell. I met John in the diner I worked in, we went to Norway together and that's about the most interesting story of my life.” She chuckled nervously. Clara felt a bit as if she was being interviewed.  
“But you haven't always been a waitress, have you?” his friend enquired.  
“No,” Clara replied. “Teacher originally, but I'm taking a break right now.”  
“Why?”  
“Amy,” John interrupted her softly. “Please, stop quizzing her and let her have her breakfast.”  
He held out the small basket and Clara took a slice of toast from the selection, but Amy's eyes never left her and it was beginning to make her a little uncomfortable. His friends were really interested in her for some reason and yet Clara couldn't shake the feeling that it was just because she was a novelty. And novelty faded over time. At some point John would lose interest and go back to his normal routine.

After breakfast John offered her a ride home, something that Clara declined politely because she needed time to think, she needed to clear her head and when she walked upstairs to get her purse she spotted the flash drive and the two notes lying on the desk. Clara pocketed the flash drive and his number, but her eyes were still set on the remaining note for a long moment while she was considering her options.  
John would break her heart sooner or later and she wasn't ready for that yet, not so soon after Danny. She had never meant to fall in love or see him again and still it had happened and now Clara wasn't sure what to do. She still had feelings and maybe right now they were stronger than ever, which didn't really make her decision any easier. Before she could change her mind she reached out and pocketed the second note with her own number on it. At least that way it was up to her to decide whether she wanted to see him again.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments :) Well, how is John gonna react when he finds her note missing?

John had searched every last corner of his room for the note with Clara's number. Immediately after her taxi had driven off he had walked up to his room to send her a message, to tell her how happy he was to have found her, how eager he was to see her again, but the note had been nowhere to be found. Then, after his room had already been turned upside down, the dreadful realisation had hit him. Clara had taken the note with her. John would never see her again.  
He slumped back down on the kitchen chair with a heavy sigh, wondering what on earth he had done wrong this time. Has he misread the signals? Was Clara still mad at him? And how was he going to find her this time when he still didn't know her last name?  
“You look way too unhappy for someone who had sex with a gorgeous, young woman just a few hours ago,” Jack remarked when he looked up from the newspaper.  
“I agree with Jack,” Amy said. “What's the matter? Did it not go well?”  
With a heavy heart John told his friend about the note Clara had written him that had disappeared after she left, concluding that she didn't want to see him again. It was over. This time for good.  
“I have to face it,” he admitted. “She's just not into me.”  
“Sorry, but I disagree,” Jack said after he had finished.  
John glowered at his friend. “And how come you suddenly know Clara better than I do?”  
He chuckled in response. “I met her at a bar. I bought her a drink. We talked,” Jack shrugged. “And she wouldn't shut up about the guy she had met. Gosh, had I known it was you I'd have dragged her here so you guys could make up. She's totally in love with you.”  
John scoffed. “Rubbish.”  
“Doctor, seriously, she's in love,” Jack said earnestly.  
He growled in reply. “Even if she is, what difference does it make? I've lost her. Again. And I doubt that Missy is going to let us pull off another free concert just so I can find her and I also doubt it would work a second time. I have no way of finding her. I still don't know her name.”  
“I do,” Amy replied nonchalantly.  
John's head instantly shot around. “What?”  
In response his friend rose from her seat and walked over to the kitchen counter to retrieve a few sheets of paper before she handed them to John. When he looked at them he recognized it as a list of names, but he couldn't really make sense of it.  
“What is this?” he enquired.  
“That is a list of everyone who was at the concert yesterday and unless she used a fake name for whatever reason, Clara is on there,” Amy explained.  
“Smart!” Jack remarked, followed by a whistling sound.  
Still John didn't fully understand and instead stared blankly at Amy.  
She rolled her eyes. “I figured you might not run into her at the concert, so I gave one of the security guards the instructions to make a list. Full name and age. That should narrow it down.”  
When the meaning of her words had finally sunk in John couldn't help but beam at her. “Oh, Amy Pond,” he laughed as he got up from his chair and placed a swift kiss on his friend's head. “You are a genius!”  
“I know,” she chuckled, smiling at him. “Now read the goddamn list.”

John instantly sat back down and started scanning the long list of names for a single word: Clara. He soon spotted a Clara Miller, but she was only 20 years old. Another Clara who was 47. Then finally he saw what he had been hoping for: Clara Oswald, 29.  
“There, that's her,” John concluded, pointing at her name. “I'm sure that's her.”  
He smiled when her read her full name once more. _Clara Oswald_. It was a beautiful name and it suited her. _Clara Oswald_.  
“Now, I believe that your search is gonna be a little more successful with her last name,” Amy noted and at her words John's head shot back up. Yes, he would probably be able to find her. But what would happen then?  
“What if she doesn't wanna see me?” he asked. “I mean, she took her number. She doesn't want me to contact her. What if she isn't interested in me?”  
“She is,” Jack growled, rolling his eyes. He seemed to grow a little impatient.  
“Yeah, and you can't really blame her for being reluctant. I mean, you got along fine while she assumed you were just some bloke. But you're famous and as soon as she googles your name she will read that you've had your share of lovers. I'd doubt your sincerity, too, if I was her,” Amy argued. “Any woman in her right mind would be careful.”  
“Then how do I convince her that I'm serious?!” John asked.  
Both Amy and Jack shrugged and answered in unison. “Romance.”

* * *

When Clara stepped inside the house she had every intention of sneaking up to her room as quietly as possible so as not to get caught by Vastra and Jenny. Otherwise she feared she would have to answer a lot of questions. Yet luck obviously wasn't on her side today.  
Vastra and Jenny were caught up in an embrace in the middle of the corridor and even though their lips were locked in a kiss and for a moment Clara believed she could sneak past them, they instantly noticed her and broke apart.  
“Don't stop snogging on my account,” Clara tried to sound matter-of-factly when she spoke. “Just passing through.”  
Quickly she walked towards the stairs, hoping that her housemates wouldn't notice her attire or the fact that she was coming home at 11 am, but she had no such luck.  
“Jenny, look at that,” Vastra remarked. “Clara Oswald has spent the night elsewhere.”  
Jenny chuckled in response. “And _with_ someone I'd say, judging by the state of her hair,” she added. “You don't really wanna go to your room without telling us the details?”  
With a sigh Clara stopped and turned back around. She couldn't possibly tell them the whole story or they would probably react like Donna and tell her that she was being an idiot. Oh God, how was she going to explain this to her friend Donna? That couldn't go well.  
“I slept with my ex,” Clara admitted. John was sort of an ex, so it wasn't even that much of a lie. Even though they had never been in a proper relationship their affair had still ended months ago. “And now I'm gonna go to my room and bang my head against the wall.”  
“Your ex?” Vastra enquired curiously.  
“Yeah, well,” Clara hesitated, “we had a fling, a thing, and I thought it was over. Apparently I was wrong.”  
“You met your ex at the concert?” Jenny asked her, obviously confused.  
“Can we please not talk about this?” Clara sighed once again. “I'm confused enough as it is.”  
She had taken his number and the photos and now it was her choice what to do next. But if she called him, John wouldn't let her off the hook again and if they continued to see each other it would just get harder and harder for her to say goodbye. But she did want to see him again. Clara had no idea what to do.  
“Alright,” Vastra agreed after a moment. “But if you do wanna talk, you know where to find us.”  
Clara nodded in response before she started to make her way upstairs. The concert really had been a bad idea from the beginning and a part of her wished she had never attended it in the first place.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *group hug* thank you for your sweet comments :) I'm glad we all agree that Clara needs to give the Doctor a chance

Clara tied her hair up in a messy bun and grabbed the bag of crisps before she made her way back into the shared living room where she was about to have a nice, quiet Friday night with Vastra and Jenny.  
“Have you picked a movie yet?” she asked them when she plopped down on the large, comfy chair. A blanket was draped over the armrest and Clara reached for it to cover her legs. It was going to be a wonderful evening and it might just take her mind off John.  
She still hadn't called him almost a week later because she still didn't know what she was going to do with him. It was obvious that she had feelings and that she wouldn't be able to ignore them when they were in the same room. It was so tempting to just call him and give in, to just have a wonderful time, but her heart was still aching when she thought about the loss of Danny. Clara just wasn't ready for another broken heart.  
“Pride & Prejudice,” Jenny replied with a grin.  
With a sigh Clara sank deeper into the armchair. Great. Romance was exactly what she didn't need.  
Then, just as Vastra was about to raise the remote and switch on the telly, the door bell rang, startling Clara so much that she instantly sat up.  
“Are you expecting someone?” Vastra wanted to know.  
Reluctantly Clara shook her head even though she had the feeling that it might be Donna. She had avoided her friend since the concert, knowing that she couldn't possibly lie and tell her that nothing had happened.  
“Well, neither are we and Strax is in Glasgow this weekend,” Jenny reasoned. “Also you're closer to the door.”  
“Fine,” Clara growled and rose from her seat, “I'll get it.”

She trudged towards the door, preparing a speech for whoever was in front of it, preparing to tell them to go away and yet when she finally opened the door her jaw dropped as she stared at the huge bouquet of flowers and the words died in her throat. No, that wasn't possible. It couldn't be.  
“Hello Clara,” John said sweetly, granting her an almost nervous smile.  
Clara just stared at him for a while longer, taking in the sight in front of her eyes. John was wearing a casual looking suit, he had obviously shaved for the occasion and he was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. He looked ready to go on a date, but it was a different question that came to her mind first.  
“How did you know where I live?!”  
“I, uhm,” he paused, shuffling his feet while he lowered his gaze. It was then that it began to dawn on her.  
“The statistics,” Clara rolled her eyes. She should have known. She should have known and used a different name. It had seemed fishy from the beginning.  
“It was Amy's idea,” John explained swiftly as if that could justify the fact that he was standing on her doorstep right now.  
“That is not an excuse to stalk me and show up on my doorstep!” she argued instantly. Clara was mad even though she wasn't really mad. Just a little. She was mad because she had taken her number for a reason and John had still managed to find her. But now what?  
She sighed. “Why are you here, John?” she asked sincerely. “Why me? Why now?”  
“Uhm,” he blew the air out between his teeth and right now Clara thought that he seemed a little lost, a little insecure. “I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me. Hence the flowers. And suit.”  
Clara let her shoulders sink because she knew she couldn't say no. She was in love with him, she had missed him all week. She couldn't possibly say no even though it was the smarter thing to do.

“We can feel the draft in the living room, so either come in or go away!” Vastra's voice came from the living room and Clara knew that it was time to make a decision.  
“I'm not really dressed for a date,” she argued.  
John shrugged softly. “I can wait for you to change. It's not anything fancy either,” he went on to explain. “I have the house to myself. I could cook us a nice dinner.”  
“I'm in my pyjamas.”  
Before John had a chance to reply Clara could hear footsteps approaching from the living room and a few seconds later Jenny turned around the corner.  
“Is there a prob-” she broke off when her eyes fell on John and his massive flower bouquet. “Oh. . . oh my God. Is that-”  
“Yes,” Clara replied sharply and glanced towards John who seemed more and more insecure with every passing second. She wanted to go out with him, she really did, but she had spent the previous week in state of pure confusion. That had to end.  
“So?” John asked hopefully. “Please, Clara, just give me a chance.”  
“Is that really the Doctor?” Jenny blurted out a little more loudly.  
Then she heard Vastra's voice from the living room. “The Doctor? _The_ Doctor or _a_ doctor?”  
It was too much, all of it. Clara couldn't hold on to a single clear thought in her head and before she could think better of it she reached for the door handle.  
“John, sorry, but I'm gonna need a moment. Stay right there,” she told him before she slammed the door in his face and sank back against the wall, inhaling sharply. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might explode any moment, her mind was racing and she really didn't know what to do. Send him away? Go with him? Tell him to never come back? Give him a chance?

“Clara, why is there a famous rockstar standing in front of our door and why did he bring flowers?” Jenny enquired curiously.  
“Can you please just shut up?!” Clara barked at her housemate. When Jenny flinched, her hurt face instantly told her that she had gone too far. “Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just. . . confused. . . and stressed and. . .”  
Clara broke off and sighed. What was she supposed to do?  
“He's the ex I told you about,” she admitted after a while. “We had a thing, I thought it was over and now he's here and wants to take me on a date. Jenny, what do I do?!”  
“Is that a serious question?”  
“Yes!” Clara replied harshly. “I don't want to go out with a rockstar. I don't want to be one in a thousand, but I like him!”  
There was a slow, reluctant knock on the front door, followed by John's careful voice. “Clara, I can hear you through the door. Please, just give me this one chance.”  
Her eyes wandered back to Jenny and she threw her a pleading look. “What do I do?” Clara half whispered.  
Jenny smiled in reply. “Well, she did show up with flowers and he doesn't strike me as the type to just go away,” she replied. “Give him a chance.”

She inhaled deeply while Jenny turned around to return to the living room and finally she made a decision.  
Carefully Clara opened the door once more and now John looked positively frightened. It almost made her believe that he was serious.  
“Do you want to come in while I put some clothes on?” she asked him.  
When John exhaled sharply the relief was almost visible on his face as he stepped through the door. Maybe he was serious about them. Maybe he wasn't. Clara was determined to find out tonight.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments!!! So, Clara agreed to a date, but how will that go?

John handed her a glass of wine as soon as Clara had sat down at the kitchen table and he tried very hard not to show it, but the truth was that his hands were shaking a little. Clara had been reluctant to agree to this date and if he blew it, he wouldn't get another chance, he was sure of that. John just needed to make her understand how serious he was about her.  
“How does grilled tuna with spaghetti sound to you?” John asked nervously, but when he looked up he was relieved to find Clara smiling.  
“Sounds like quite an effort for a simple dinner,” she replied.  
John raised his eyebrows. “Is that a yes or no?”  
“It's a yes,” Clara chuckled and took a sip from her wine. “You sticking with the whiskey?”  
“Nope,” he replied as he bent down to retrieve the pots from the cupboard. “The not drinking is going well, I don't want to ruin that.”  
“May I ask why?”  
John turned around and looked straight at Clara. She seemed genuinely curious and he could understand why, but would she appreciate the truth?  
With a sigh he sank back against the kitchen counter. “I went a little overboard after I came home from Norway. I wasn't in a very good place because Amy wasn't talking to me and. . . well. . . I missed you,” he admitted. “I did some stupid things, I-”  
His mind went back to the woman in the bar that had looked so much like Clara. If he had gone through with his original plan he would have never forgiven himself and he also doubted that Clara would have. “I met someone who resembled you. She resembled you a lot, but she wasn't you and I-”  
“Hang on,” Clara frowned at him while she sat her wine glass down. “You picked up a girl just because she looked like me?!”  
“That is really not what I did,” John argued immediately. “We kissed, that's all. She just wasn't you and it was you that I wanted. So I went back to the diner.”  
In response Clara gawked at him, but she never said a word.  
“I hadn't changed my clothes, I must have smelled like the bar itself. The owner kicked me out. Didn't tell me a thing. That was when I knew that something had to chance.”  
“Good,” Clara concluded. “I would have slapped him otherwise. I was really angry with you at first.”  
“I'm sorry,” John apologized sincerely. “I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I just wanted to get away, to not be the star for a while.”  
Slowly Clara nodded.  
“What we had in Norway,” he began carefully, “that was really special to me. I just want you to give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for.”  
Finally Clara smiled at him in response. “Do you need help with dinner?”  
“No, absolutely not,” John insisted. “You're my guest. You will sit down and relax.”  
“Alright,” she replied and grinned at him before a thought suddenly seemed to come to her mind. “Where's the rest of the band?”  
“Amy and Rory are visiting his father over the weekend and I sent Jack away and told him not to come back tonight.”  
She frowned at him. “Where will he sleep?”  
“Oh, he'll find something, trust me.”

They exchanged small talk while he was cooking and continued over dinner. Clara told him that she had looked at the photos from their trip and while she was talking John thought that he was only falling deeper in love. Clara was so smart and so funny and so beautiful, he couldn't screw this up. John wanted her to stay and never leave again.  
“Did you like it? Your dinner?” John asked hopefully when Clara pushed the empty plate away.  
“Yes, it was amazing,” she replied, but there was something wary about the tone of her voice and John didn't have to ask what it was about. “I don't understand why you're doing this. Why the concert? Why did you come back? Why me?”  
“Do I really need to say it?” John almost gawked at her. Hadn't he been obvious enough? The song, the concert, the flowers, the meal. He had planned more for tonight, but right now he still felt baffled that he had to explain himself.  
Yet instead of doing that John rose from his seat and held out his hand for Clara to take.  
“Where are we going?” she asked carefully.  
“To the roof,” John replied with a smile. “The view is nice from there.”  
Reluctantly Clara reached for his hand and let him pull her up before he started to lead her upstairs, past his bedroom and towards the stairs to the attic. From there another flight of stairs led upstairs to the roof where John had already prepared something for Clara.

Luckily the weather was nice and there was no wind, so the tea lights he had set up while she had been in the bathroom where still there and illuminating the path to an array of blankets and cushions. Both Amy and Jack had suggested to him to be romantic, but it had been ages since he had even tried, so John had no idea how Clara was going to react.  
“John,” she gasped next to him. “What is all of this?”  
He cleared his throat. “Uhm, would you, er, like to sit down or, you know, dance?” John asked her and reached into the pocket of his jacket for the remote before he switched on the music. A slow song started to play.  
“I don't want to do anything before you explain what this is all about,” Clara spat as she took a step backwards. All of a sudden she looked a little bit scared.  
John didn't know what to do. He had tried his best, but it wasn't working. He was screwing this up, he could feel it, he could feel that Clara was trying to pull back, but he just had to try. He had to say it now.  
“I'm in love with you, Clara,” John blurted out eventually. The look on her face was one of sheer disbelief. “I've been in love with you since Norway. Maybe I've been in love with you since I saw you at the diner, I don't know.”  
He realized that he sounded desperate, but if that was the only thing that would convince her to stay, he would say it, he would give his best.  
“I want you in my life,” he admitted. “All those weeks that I've spent looking for you, they were terrible. I didn't even feel like myself. I needed to see you again and now that you're here, I don't want you to leave. Clara, please, I know that you feel something for me, too. Just give us a chance.”  
In a moment of despair John reached out to take her hand, but to his horror Clara pulled away. The look on her face was one of pure fright.  
“I'm sorry,” she whispered and John watched her swallow.  
“What?” he asked in panic. He was actually panicking. “What do you mean?”  
“I'm sorry, I can't do this,” she replied. “I can't fall in love with a rockstar.”

Before John had a chance of stopping her Clara turned around and darted back towards the stairs.


	42. Chapter 42

There was only one thought left in her mind and that was the thought about flight. Clara couldn't do it, she just couldn't. John sounded a lot more serious than she would have expected and it was scaring the living hell out of her. If he was serious, if he was truly serious, it meant that she would have to give him a chance, let go of Danny, get her life back on track. She wasn't ready, she couldn't do it.  
Just when Clara had reached the stairs a hand softly reached for her arm, holding her back and she stopped with a sigh. She didn't want to leave. She was in love with him, too. But how else could she protect herself from another broken heart?  
“Clara,” John's voice was pleading with her. “Please, don't run. Talk to me.”  
Slowly she turned back around and at the sight of his face she almost started to cry. That face, his stupid face that she had dreamed about almost every night for the past week.  
“Don't you see that's not who I am?” he asked her sincerely. “I'm not the man you've seen on that stage a week ago. I'm not the rockstar. I don't wanna be him.”  
Clara scoffed softly and tried to shake off his hand, but he wouldn't let go. His touch was soft and warm and if he didn't let go of her soon she would be tempted to just wrap her arms around him and stay.  
“I'm the idiot who just went out and bought a motorhome. I'm the man who took you to Norway because I was lonely.”  
His hand slid down her arm and wrapped around her own fingers, squeezing them softly.  
“You were so kind to me and you were so funny and above all you weren't afraid to boss me around. I need that, I really do. All those years, all those women, they never saw the real me, but you did. I loved that about you from the beginning. I don't want someone who admires me, I want someone to hold my hand and kick my ass if needed,” he confessed.  
Clara couldn't help but laugh at his last statement. “I can kick your ass now, if you like,” she joked, but her features soon turned serious again. “What do you want, John? How do you think this is going to work?”  
He shrugged in reply. “I don't know. All I know is that I want you in my life. If you feel nothing for me, that's fine, I'll have to live with it, but I think you do.”  
Clara slowly lowered her gaze. “I'm scared,” she confessed.  
“Why?” John demanded to know and all of a sudden he pulled her a little closer. Clara landed against his chest and carefully he closed his arms around her back, holding her exactly in place. It felt so good, so warm, so. . . protected. She really wished she could just let go of her fear.  
“I told you about Danny that one night, the night I first kissed you, I don't know how much you remember.”  
“Oh God,” he sighed. “Not much, I'm afraid.”  
“We were together and he died,” she said. “I ran away. I ran away from my job, my friends, my life, my broken heart. I couldn't cope. I couldn't deal with it. And I'm terrified that my heart will be broken all over again. If we do this I will have to be very brave. I'm in love with you, too, and admitting that is terrifying.”  
She heard John inhale deeply before his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against his chest.  
“It's okay,” he said softly. “It's alright, Clara, because I will never hurt you. I would do anything just to have you in my life. We can take it slow. In fact, we can do it any way you want it. I don't care. I love you and nothing can change that.”

Clara couldn't help herself, the tears just came and she buried her face in his shirt so he wouldn't see them. She believed him now. She believed that he was sincere, she believed him when he said he wouldn't hurt her. Right now Clara couldn't even say why she was crying at all, but the truth was that she had just given in.  
“Do you think a kiss could make it better?” he asked her carefully and finally Clara raised her head again to look at him.  
John lifted a hand to her face and gently wiped away her tears.  
“Well, it's worth a try,” she said with a smile.  
For a moment Clara thought that he was trying to hide how happy he was, but John was failing terribly because the huge grin on his face gave it away in an instant before he bent down and their lips touched moments later. Clara's heart jumped up in her chest when he kissed her softly and all of her doubts vanished into thin air. She was in love with him. He was in love with her. To hell with it, she would give him a chance.  
She smiled at him when he finally pulled away and John smiled at her in return when suddenly the song changed and the stereo playing something with a better beat. Before Clara could even react John had closed his arm around her waist and taken her hand and he twirled her around like he had done at the bar in Norway.  
“Uh,” she giggled in surprise. “Careful.”  
“Never,” he replied before he pulled her back against his chest. “My friends said I should try romance, so I'm following their advice.”  
“It's good advice,” Clara agreed. “So, what now?”  
“What do you mean?” John wanted to know.  
“You. Me. Us,” she cocked her head, smiling at him.  
John shrugged. “I still have the motorhome,” he replied casually. “A road trip across America is kind of nice.”  
Clara chuckled in response. “I have to go back to teaching at some point. I'm sure you've got to get some work done as well.”  
“Yeah, but not right now, right? I mean, you could take a bit more time off. If I remember correctly, you wanted to see the world,” he argued.  
“What about your band?” Clara asked, smiling at him. It was tempting, she had to admit that.  
“Amy is pregnant. We're postponing the tour until after the baby is born. Might be our last tour together, so we want to give our best.”  
Clara couldn't help but laugh. “Are you serious? A road trip across America?”  
“Think about it,” John said enthusiastically. “You, me, the motorhome. New York. The south. The Grand Canyon. We would have a blast.”  
Clara stopped and looked at John. From the expression on his face she could tell that he was serious. She tried to imagine it, all those wonderful days they would have, all those wonderful nights. Just the two of them. John was right. She had quit her job to see the world, so she should go out and actually see it.  
“Ah, sod it,” she said with a laugh. “Let's do it.”  
John beamed at her in reply, but there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure that she actually meant it. “Are you sure?”  
“Are _you_ sure?”  
Instead of replying John closed the distance between them and pulled her up for another kiss and it was all the confirmation either of them truly needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gives you guys the biggest group hug that ever existed*  
> Thank you all so, so, so much for the amazing comments you've left throughout the story. Even though this fic was kind of spontaneous it turned into half a novel and I'm soooooo happy that you've all enjoyed it so much. Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos and commenting and know that every single one made my day a little brighter when I read it :) Thank you for that!!!
> 
> Now, don't worry, the next one is already in the works. Some of you might have seen the post on Tumblr and Instagram where I asked which story I should write next and it's undoubtably the Colepaldi one titled "Changing Hearts", but for those who voted for the Whouffaldi AU - I won't forget about it and it's most definitely on my to-do list!  
> However, it's going to be a few days until I start posting "Changing Hearts" which is due to personal issues. My laptop has been acting up a lot lately, which I've been trying to fix (unsuccessfully) and I only just got a new one yesterday. So give me a bit of time to get acquainted with using macOS. Also my grandma has been admitted to the hospital last week. She's doing better, but they're keeping her for observation, so I'll probably go and visit her after work the next few days. All of that has left me with less time for writing than I would have anticipated, so I'd like to ask you to be patient for a few more days. I'm hoping to start posting by the next weekend :)


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